


They Will Come When We Call

by EveryDayArtist



Series: Side By Side 'Verse [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: All Amis - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grantaire gets sober, Lots of humor and angst, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1900680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryDayArtist/pseuds/EveryDayArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Let us take to the streets with no doubt in our hearts, with a jubilant shout, they will come one and all, they will come when we call” –Red and Black</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Nine friends and their new recruits, a pissed off law official, a string of thefts, relationship dynamics and the beginning of social revolution. No one said it would be easy. </p><p>Modern!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Cosette knew most of her boyfriend’s friends relatively well, so the wave of chaos that hit her as she entered the café wasn’t altogether unexpected.

She shook her head as she walked past the doors and scanned the room for a familiar head of spikey hair. The curvy woman behind the counter of the long bar, a few years older than her with a mass of curly brown hair, winked and nodded at the back room as the blonde tried to make her way through the crowd. Cosette sighed. There wasn’t so much a wall separating the bar from the tables in the back as there were a few dividers and the laughter and arguing of the young men behind it could be heard clearly. With a sweeping look, she eyed the room, searching for a familiar face.

Then her eyes caught a pair of warm honey colored ones hiding behind a pair of stylish black-framed glasses and she felt a rush of recognition. She knew his name was Combeferre because when Marius had introduced her to his group she had immediately marked the tall, studious man as someone she wanted to get to know. (If not only because he was the quietest and most mature of the lot and had actually introduced himself like an adult.) He smiled knowingly at her and managed to tear one hand away from his book long enough to point at the far left corner and mouth ‘over there’ before lowering his eyes again; somehow keeping his concentration amongst the din of the café.

In order to get to her destination Cosette had to go past three loud boys who seemed to be in the middle of an impromptu wrestling match; one with dark brown hair and the biggest brown eyes she’d ever seen was working with another, taller (Feuilly, that was what she thought he was called) man as they ganged up on another boy pinned to a table. Now, him she remembered because he was in her poetry class. She smiled at Jehan Prouvaire as he smiled weakly back from where he was being playfully choked by the dark haired boy.

“Good afternoon, Cosette. Marius is over there—Courfeyrac! Let me go you jerk!”

Within a few steps the pretty blonde girl could finally see the object of her search. Marius looked up as she approached and his face lit up in a huge smile as he leapt up to kiss her on the cheek. Cosette laughed and accepted a seat as she shrugged off her jacket. “This place is hard to find.”

“That’s why we like it.” A skinny redhead who was seated on Marius’ left commented. “It’s out of the way.”

The gangly boy who was seated next to him snorted. “We only meet here because we get discounts on the drinks because Joly and I live with the owner’s cousin.”

The skinny boy’s face burned red and he slouched in his seat as the large man, who introduced himself as Lesgle (“But call me Bossuet, everyone does.”) laughed loudly.

“It’s not what it sounds like.” Joly grinned sheepishly.

Cosette watched the lively boys in their little groups play and yell and tease, and bit her lip. Misunderstanding her expression, Marius leaned toward her and began to mummer in her ear.

“Sorry about this. Everyone gets a little crazy before meetings.”

The blonde just smiled. “When I said total immersion, I meant it. This is just what I asked for. So relax, okay?”

“Are you sure?" 

“Honey, I’ve just stopped being homeschooled and finally get to be around people my own age. Loud, crowded and fun sounds like a blast.”

She adored that cute little blush that would cover his freckled nose whenever he was embarrassed and it was always fun to draw it out. She leaned toward his shoulder and mused how different this setting was to the quiet life she’d been living.

Everyone at their little table jumped slightly as a pair of voices in another corner were suddenly audible over the rest of the babble. The tones and words were harsh and she looked around in confusion, as the boys at her table did nothing. The dark haired boy, Courfeyrac, came to hang over Bossuet’s shoulder. “They’re at it again." 

“Like clockwork.” Joly said, not even looking away from where he was picking at a scab on his wrist.

Cosette twisted around to look for the ruckus and found two boys facing off, nearly nose-to-nose. The taller one was blond, with pale blue eyes and a face so attractive that it seemed unfair. She remembered this one, Enjolras, and she couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable around him; he’d seemed so aloof when they’d been introduced and now seeing him so angry her first impression was only reinforced. She didn’t know the boy standing up to him but couldn’t help but think there couldn’t possibly be a more different figure. He had a mass of unruly black curls and a face lined with shadows and stubble. Even though he was smaller than Enjolras, he looked close to laughter as he faced off against the still fuming blond.

Enjolras threw his hands in the air. “You are quite possibly the most ignorant, irritating waste of space that I have ever met!”

“You’re running out of adjectives.” The dark haired boy grinned. “You’ve called me ignorant fifteen times this week.”

“Because that is what you are!” The blond began to stomp off and everyone held their breath; hoping that it was over for now. Jehan actually groaned as Enjolras spun on his heel and stormed back to the grinning brunette. “And why the hell are you counting anyway?!”

“Because it irritates you and you’re cute when you’re angry.”

“I swear, Grantaire, I will-”

Grantaire smiled widely and leaned closer to the taller man. “Will what? File a formal protest and make a petition? That’s you answer to everything right?”

The argument might have been stopped there if Courfeyrac hadn’t giggled into his hand.  Enjolras’ eyes narrowed and he clenched his fists as Grantaire took a step back and spread his arms in a ‘hey, don’t look at me’ way.

“Why the hell are you even here?”

Grantaire tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Beer’s good and cheap. Anyway, it’s your own fault-”

“MY fault?!”

“-since you’re the one that asked my opinion in the first place.” The young man tapped the table, where papers were scattered over the hardwood surface. “A petition is all well and good; hey, everyone loves to give their opinion, right? Loudly in my case. But afterwards? If you actually get this motion carried? POOF, there goes your supporters. There’s a massive difference between signing your name on a piece of paper and actually giving an effort. You want this shelter to be built by volunteers in order to cut costs but how many people are actually gonna stick out on a project that long if they’re not getting anything from it? Humans are a pathetic and selfish as a whole and I guarantee that this is going to blow up in your face.” The cynic made a sweeping bow, grabbing a bottle from the table. “And with that, M. Enjolras, I am not nearly drunk enough for this conversation. Au revoir.”

Grantaire was halfway to the bar before Enjolras managed to unclench his hands and stomp jerkily to the table where Bossuet was slow clapping the drunk’s exit. The blond shot him a withering glance and put his head in his hands. “Don’t encourage him.”

Joly shook his head as he got up to help some of the other boys pull the two tables together. “He does it to wind you up. You’re the one encouraging him here.” 

As the meeting began, the men all quieted down and settled in their chairs around the massive pile of fliers and papers. Enjolras sat at the head of the table, flanked by Courfeyrac on one side and Combeferre on the other, clipboard at the ready as he took notes. Next to the law student was Joly, who was muttering under his breath that his scab looked a little off, and then Bossuet who was watching him with a little grin. Cosette and Marius were seated at the end of the table and next to Jehan, who handed the young woman a drink and curled up next to Feuilly and next was a muscular young man with messy hair named Bahorel who was texting someone under the table and out of his leader’s sight. After a few minutes, Grantaire joined them, plopping down next to Bossuet, who threw an arm around his shoulder and whispered something that made the drunk smile.

The girl quickly figured out that they were attempting to get permission to reconstruct the dilapidated bank down the street into a homeless shelter. Cosette felt a thrill of affection as the boys all contributed to the planning; even the comments coming from the gang’s resident cynic only worked to spur them on to better ideas. These were good people; she could see why Marius was drawn to them. They had an outline of their mission written down when they took a break for drinks and to allow Combeferre and Enjolras to go and copy the paper. As they all settled down to talk, the woman from the bar came over and placed a tray of new drinks and snacks on the table before going to sit on Joly’s lap. The redhead turned to Cosette and made introductions.

“Cosette, this is Musichetta. She and her cousin own the place.”

“Just call me ‘Chetta.” The woman laughed as she ran a hand through Joly’s hair. “So this is the famous Cosette. God bless you for agreeing to date that dope, I was getting fed up with his love-sick rants.”

Marius blushed furiously as Cosette gave the other woman a friendly smile. “I hope he’s not been too much of a bother.”

“I cannot think a fate worse, for any man’s ear, than another longing verse, from this fool here.” Jehan said absentmindedly from where he was doodling on the back of Feuilly’s hand.

“I don’t suppose we could be done making fun of me?” Marius protested.

“Not really, no.”

* * *

Returning to the café, Enjolras pulled his roommate to the side. “Ferre, listen, do you think he’s right?”

“Who?”

“The winecask, who else?”

Combeferre sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Well, at least the derogatory nicknames are getting more creative. Look, we both agree R is a pessimist. I think this plan has every chance of succeeding and that he’s just pushing your buttons.”

“I’m getting sick of it.” The young activist muttered as he looked over the table of friends.

“Yeah, well, you do wear your buttons in a very easily accessible place.” Combeferre sighed and threw the papers onto the tabletop. “Here we are gents and ladies, these should explain everything for anyone who needs more info.”

Enjolras began pacing. “We need to strategize. Let’s assign territory, there’s ten of us-”

“Nine, actually.” Feuilly raised his hand quickly, an apologetic look on his face. “I can’t get work off this week.”

“Alright, nine of us. So if we section off the area and pair up…”

Enjolras and Combeferre would take the shopping centers. Courfeyrac and Jehan agreed to hit the campus. Joly and Bossuet claimed the parks and Bahorel took on Grantaire with good humor as they volunteered to try the bus and train stations. Cosette raised her hand and offered to take the business section with her boyfriend, earning her an approving look from the blond leader. But once the areas were claimed they found that one place remained.

Jehan frowned. “Someone still needs to try First Street. There’s plenty of bars, restaurants and shops; enough to be a good place to pick up some names.”

“You volunteering?” Bahorel asked, leaning back in his seat as the little poet gave him a withering look.

“I can’t, my schedule’s packed. Are you?”

Everyone shifted slightly as Enjolras glared around the room. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Enjy…” Courfeyrac shook his head. “You’ve got way too much going on. We can hit the area later.”

“I’ll do it.”

There was a stunned silence as all eyes turned to the drunk slouched in his chair. Grantaire bore the incredulous looks patiently and shrugged. “I have nothing better to do.”

“Anybody else?” The blond asked desperately. “ANYONE else?!”

The cynic rolled his eyes and hauled himself up. “Thank you for your vote of confidence. I know the area and don’t have to work this week. I don’t have any homework either, I can do it.”

“This is important.” Enjolras stressed.

“Then I will treat it as so.”

Cosette bit her lip and watched both men stare each other down until the blond gave in and agreed. The young woman frowned thoughtfully at the happy look on Grantaire’s face as Enjolras turned away.

* * *

To say that Jehan was pissed off was an understatement. The young man was hunched over their table, gritting his teeth and tossing another balled up piece of paper onto the floor. 

Courfeyrac and Feuilly watched from a safe distance on the couch, peering over the edge and absent-mindedly eating fruit-snacks. There was a knock at the door and Marius entered, raising an eyebrow at the two crouching on the couch. Courfeyrac made a shushing noise at him and waved him over.

“Jehan has writer’s block.” Feuilly whispered. 

Marius paled and hid with them, the three young men watching the teen seated at the table, who was scribbling on yet another piece of paper. A loud noise reverberated from down the hall as Bahorel threw open his door and walked into the room, asking loudly, “Hey, do we have any--”

“GO AWAY!” Everyone flinched as the youngest man slammed the table with a palm. “I am trying to work here!! I am on a deadline, have writer’s block and YOU ARE NOT HELPING!”

Marius quickly turned to Feuilly. “So, we were gonna clean out our Netflix account?”

“Right. Yeah, let’s do that. Now. Now would be good.”

The two made a run for it, leaving Courfeyrac and Bahorel to deal with their irate roommate on their own. They exchanged a glance and went over to haul the poet from his seat. “Come on, let’s get coffee. Maybe the fresh air will clear your head.”

Jehan glared at Bahorel. “I need to work.”

“You sound like Enjy.” Courfeyrac said cheerfully as they frog marched the younger boy out the door. “Let’s have some fun and get those creative juices flowing.”

Outside the Musian, Grantaire was sprawled out in the grass, looking up at the sky and absent-mindedly tapping a rhythm on the ground. He barely reacted as his three coffee-laden friends joined him. “Do you ever wonder what clouds taste like?" 

“No, R, I think the only people who wonder about things like that in their free time are you when you’re a few drinks in.” Jehan snorted, sipping his hazelnut latte.

“It’s a valid concern.” The man sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. “You think if I ask Enjolras he’d start a fund or something? This could be important research.”

“I think if you ask Enjolras he’ll punch you in the face for wasting his time.” Courfeyrac commented. “Speaking of which, have you done your task?”

Bahorel held up a hand defensively. “I swear, we did our rounds.”

“What about the extra stuff you promised to do?” Jehan asked the drunk, letting him steal some of his coffee.

“I’ll get to it tonight.” Grantaire mumbled, shoving art supplies into his bag.

“You better, ‘Jol wants to hand it over tomorrow. He needs those signatures.” Jehan looked at his friend in concern as the older man rubbed at his eyes and nodded. “’Taire, have you slept recently?”

“Recently.” He hedged, standing up unsteadily. “Come on, meeting starts in a few minutes. I want more coffee.”

Enjolras eyed the group as they entered the back room and zeroed in on the cynic. “Grantaire, have you been to--”

“Tonight, I swear.” Flopping into a chair, Grantaire waved a hand, nearly spilling his coffee. “I have a plan and everything.”

“I NEED those signatures.” The activist leaned over the table on his knuckles and glared hard at the older man. “I swear if you mess this up…”

“Have a little faith.”

“This from the man who has none himself.”

Grantaire flipped him off and slumped further into his chair, scowling as Joly sat next to him and began asking after his health. Down the table Cosette and Marius were handing over their petitions to Combeferre. Enjolras joined them, looking slightly surprised. “…Cosette, right? I honestly didn’t expect to see you again.”

The young woman laughed. “Do you often scare people off after only one meeting?”

“Well your boyfriend only comes to half the meetings and it took Courfeyrac a month to get him to come at all.” Enjolras smiled slightly.

“That would be because, unlike you all, I study and have an actual social life.” Marius objected good-naturedly before he and Cosette were nearly bowled over by Grantaire slamming into their backs and latching on to their shoulders. He grinned over Joly’s call of  ‘those bags look too dark, you need to get more sleep or you might get seriously ill’ and half hugged both of them.

“Marius, I have a question! If you’ve been dating this far-too-good-for-you girl for several months now, have you done the whole meet the parents thing?”

The abrupt paling of the boy’s face was a pretty clear answer. Grantaire grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “Oh man, what’s that like? I ask because I’ve never gotten there myself.”

“Somehow I can’t see you getting past the first date.” Enjolras muttered.

“Wait, there’s a second date?”

Ignoring the man, Enjolras began to pile the papers into neat stacks, nodding over his shoulder. “Isn’t that yours?”

The drunk frowned and twisted around to grab the vibrating phone. “I have a message… No one but you guys ever call me...” He flipped the phone open and backed away from the others.

Marius cleared his throat as Enjolras continued to go through their papers. “Hey, Jehan wanted me to ask; he’s got a reading next week. Would you go?" 

The blond looked up hesitantly. “One of those poetry things? I don’t know if…”

“Jol.” Combeferre murmured, coming to stand next to him. “You’re the only one of us that hasn’t been to any of his readings. He’d really appreciate it.”

“…I’ll think about it then. It’ll depend on if I can get my business essay done quickly.”

“I have to go.”

Everyone turned at the unusual tone in Grantaire’s voice as he lunged for his backpack. “See you guys later.”

“The signatures!” Enjolras called, glaring at the dark haired boy’s back.

Grantaire turned and nodded at him. “Tonight. I promise Enjolras. I really got to go.” There was a panicked tone in his voice as he ran for the door and the other friends all stared after him.

Feuilly folded his arms and bit his lip. “What do you think is wrong with R?”

“You mean other than usual?” Enjolras snorted.

Jehan walked over, grimacing. “Can’t you be a little nicer? Please?”

“I will when he stops being such a screw up and getting on my nerves.”

“Enjolras!” 

The blond looked like he was about to snap at the boy but Jehan stared back at him calmly and put his hands on his hips, glaring. Enjolras sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “I’m sorry Jehan. My father emailed me last night; I’m in a bit of a bad mood.”

Everyone froze and turned to look at the activist as he slumped in his seat. Enjolras’ eyes were boring into the table as Combeferre sat next to him and motioned for Courfeyrac to go get drinks. “What did he want ‘Jol?”

“The usual. To criticize my life choices, my home, my political views, my friends, hell, even my grades.”

“Don’t you have, like, straight ‘A’s?” Bahorel asked.

“You see the issue.” Enjolras muttered. “He couldn’t even take the time to call and cut me down. He just sent a damn message from work.”

Jehan looked heartbroken as he sat down next to Enjolras and bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”

The blond looked down at the younger boy and smiled slightly. Putting an arm around the Jehan’s shoulders he hugged him. “I’m sorry if I’m being snippy.”

Combeferre knew that Jehan’s parents had kicked him out of the house after he graduated from high school and that at moments where Enjolras was in this kind of mood it was best to leave them alone.

“Joly, can I get your papers please?”

* * *

Grantaire dashed into his apartment, breathing heavily as he stumbled to a halt in front of his landlord. “Sir, I…”

“Third time in a row.” M. Thénardier said, arms crossed. “I did warn you what would happen if you were late again.”

“Sir, please, I got laid off.” Grantaire gasped, running his hands through his curly hair as he caught his breath. “I’ll get the money soon, just let me have a little more time, please.”

Thénardier straightened, puffing out his skinny chest and trying to look imposing. “No money for rent, no room.”

“Sir!” Grantaire felt cold. “Sir please…”

“Pack up your stuff and be out before the hour’s out." 

“Sir, I’m begging you, at least give me until tonight to find a place to crash.” Grantaire was starting to feel a headache coming on. “Sir, I have a little money, I can pay for the day.” 

The ugly little man looked thoughtful as he stared at the boy, tapping thin fingers on his logbook. He looked close to denying Grantaire his request when the door opened and a tousled head of hair poked through.

“Dad, hey, Montparnasse, Claquesous, Babet, and Gueulemer are here. D’you wanna talk to them or what?” Eponine winked at Grantaire as her father perked up and made for the door.

“Give the money to ‘Ponine and get yourself scarce. You’ve got ‘till midnight. Sirs, welcome!”

The girl grinned broadly at Grantaire as he shoved the money into her hands and mouthed ‘thank you’. He stood in the middle of the apartment and tried to come up with a plan as his breathing slowed back to normal. He could ask one of the Amis if he could stay with them until he found a job.

_Oh yeah, because they really want to deal with a screw-up like you. You really want to admit to them you lost your job, again? You haven’t even told them you dropped out of your classes._

Shaking off the thoughts, Grantaire caught sight of the papers on his table and grabbed them, making for the door. He could do this for Enjolras first. He’d deal with things later.

* * *

Joly walked over to his kitchen table, smiling at the sight of his friends all in the midst of an argument. Jehan was hunched over his notebook, trying to write as Bossuet and Courfeyrac loudly teased Marius while Cosette and Musichetta laughed and watched on. 

Joly kissed his girlfriend on the cheek and settled between her and Bossuet. “What are we talking about now?”

“Love.” Cosette said, petting her boyfriend’s hair as he slumped in his seat. “Marius made the mistake of talking about it in front of Enjolras and he kinda ripped him a new one.”

“I should have known better.” The boy sighed. “Enjolras wouldn’t know love if it kicked him in the face.”

“Think he’s… Y’know, not interested at all?” Cosette asked cautiously. Courfeyrac grinned.

“We have been asking that for years. He’s never had a girlfriend or boyfriend or anything. I think he may be.”

“I agree there’s a good chance.” Musichetta shook her head. “But I don’t think he should be classified as asexual.”

“What’s the difference again?” Marius asked, picking up his drink and re-entering the conversation.”

Musichetta leaned forward. “Enjy’s never shown any interest in having any sort of relationship at all, so I’d put him more under aromantic. Someone who’s asexual can still want to be in a relationship and need affection.” She nuzzled Joly’s neck. “I mean look at us.” 

“You’re asexual?” Cosette asked in surprise.

“Yep.” The pretty woman said, grinning at the other girl. “Unfortunately when you work at a bar, telling guys that you’re not interested in them that way doesn’t really work so Joly is my ‘boyfriend’. Letting them know you’re taken works a hell of a lot better than trying to explain different sexualities to half drunk idiots.” She reached over the redhead to squeeze Bossuet’s shoulder. “Works out for me, got two roommates out of the deal who are perfect cuddle buddies.”

“And we all know that no other woman is going to put up with Joly for long, so he’s lucky too.” Bossuet teased, as Joly slapped him on the arm.

Musichetta leaned over to where Cosette was sitting. “I’m asexual but not aromantic so I still enjoy the idea of being in a relationship but Enjolras, that boy is like ice.” 

“Well he does sort of have that ‘no touchie’ vibe going o-”

“WHY does nothing want to rhyme with winter?! It’s not that hard!!!” Jehan was practically in a fetal position in his seat and Courfeyrac sighed and stood up.

“I better get this one to bed. I’ll be so glad when this project is over.”

* * *

Grantaire drifted into one of the bars and looked around curiously. The man behind the counter grinned wolfishly at him. “Hey, R, it’s been a while. Where you been at?”

“Busy.” The young shook his head, trying to keep his mind on the task at hand. “C’n I ask everybody to sign something?”

“Only if you buy a drink.” The man said cheerfully, pushing over a mug. Grantaire took it and moved to start speaking to some bikers in the corner. He fumbled through the presentation that had seemed so much easier with Bahorel helping him. The drink, which over time somehow turned into several drinks, was fogging his brain and made the young man stumble even more as he tried to talk the men into signing. He’d hit several establishments but had gotten only a few signatures so far and was starting to feel that tightening in his chest that usually preceded the voices. As the men around him ignored him or cracked jokes the words began to swim through his head and make his rub at his eyes as a migraine blasted his senses.

_You can’t even get people to sign a piece of paper, what’s the matter with you? No wonder you drink, you’re useless even when you try. Why they put up with a worthless lump like you I don’t know…_

“Can you please just sign?” He snapped, the headache increasing. “You won’t get pulled into anything, I just need the numbers.”

“Tell ya what,” One large man grinned. “Play a couple of rounds with us and we’ll think about it while you do. Come on, have some fun.”

_Might as well, I mean look at what you’ve done so far. No one cares, just like you said. Why are you even trying? You told him it wouldn’t work._

Grantaire downed the rest of his drink, trying to numb the ache in his head and accepted the pool stick. “What the hell right?”

“Come on, ‘Jol!” Combeferre ran after the younger man, who stuck his head into one of the bars before moving down the street again. The older man caught Enjolras’ arm and held him still for a second. “He promised he’d do it. You don’t need to check up on him; he’s not a child.”

“No, he’s an idiot and that’s almost worse.” Enjolras shook his head and broke away, making for another building. “I can’t believe he talked me into-”

Combeferre felt a surge of apprehension as the younger man stiffened and glared at the room in front of him. Enjolras had that look in his eyes that was selectively reserved for politicians and Grantaire and always made Combeferre feel like the blond was only a second away from strangling someone. The older man looked over his friend’s shoulder and felt his heart fall; Grantaire was leaning against a pool table, laughing at something that one of the men he was playing against had said. The papers lay abandoned on a table.

Before Combeferre could stop him, Enjolras was halfway across the room, locked on to the dark haired man who hadn’t noticed his entrance.

“GRANTAIRE!”

To his credit, the man didn’t even flinch at the tone of the activist’s voice; although that probably was due to the amount of alcohol in his systems at the moment. “Hey ‘Jol.” The drunk said cheerfully. “You want to play?”

Enjolras grabbed his arm and yanked him away from the table with a little more force than was probably warranted as the older man stumbled to gain his balance. Grantaire looked terrified now, as though he suddenly understood the situation and wasn’t ready to deal with it. The blond carried on anyway, oblivious to the change in the older man’s attitude.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

“I was just taking a break…”

The younger man snatched up the papers from the table. “After all the hard work you put into getting these, what, ten signatures?”

Combeferre had a very bad feeling about the look on Grantaire’s face as Enjolras said that and tried to intervene but was shrugged off by the blond, who continued on relentlessly.

“Why did I honestly think this could work? I’m so stupid for even giving you a chance--did you even try? Did you even think about trying before you got plastered and wrote it off?”

Grantaire was shaking as he stared back at Enjolras. “Of course I did! I don’t want to disappoint you, I swear, but it was so hard--”

“So you gave up?!” The blond was furious, his voice rising in volume as he waved the papers in front of the older man. “Are you really so pathetic that you’d rather give up on a simple task than try?! You just give a worthless half-hearted attempt and-”

“I tried!” The drunk flinched as though he’d been physically slapped at the word ‘worthless’ and began to yell back. “I tried even though I don’t believe that this’ll work. What do you want from me?”

“For you to get your act together for the cause!”

“I don’t think I can--”

“Then stop coming!”

Grantaire froze at that. His eyes went wide and his face paled as he stared silently at Enjolras who was shaking and looked a little surprised himself before taking a deep breath and gathering the rest of the papers. Grantaire raised a shaking hand and managed to croak out, “Enjolras, I--”

“If you’re not going to commit and just waste our time then I don’t want you at the meetings.” Enjolras cut him off, not meeting his eyes. “You’re just a distraction.”

The blond pushed out the door before he could see the mix of emotions that flashed over the other man’s face before settling on a blank and terrified look that drained his entire face of color and made him crash to the floor. He slumped over, his head in his hands and breathing erratically as Combeferre dropped to his knees next to him. “Come on, ‘Taire, breath. He’s just… ‘Taire look at me.”

The man pulled away, staggering to his feet. “I… I have to go.”

“No, ‘Taire, wait--”

“I’m so sorry. Tell him I’m so so sorry.”

“R, wait!”


	2. Chapter One

**Six Months Later….**

Bahorel shook his head, showering the floor with raindrops and waved cheerfully at Musichetta. “Evening! Rest in the back?” Ignoring the widening of her eyes he loped into the back room and headed over to his friends. “Hey, sorry I’m late.”

Joly actually fell out of his chair as he sprang at the other boy. “What the hell did you do to your face?!”

It wasn’t too odd for the young man to come in covered in bruises; Bahorel thrived on conflict and was always ready to break a face or start a brawl. The shiner he proudly displayed as he sat down next to Feuilly was a garish shade of purple that bled into a blueish-black. He shrugged. “I walked into a door.”

“A bar door?” Enjolras sat down, glaring at the other man. Most of the group avoided eye contact with the blond, who was already typing on his laptop and shutting out the world around him. Over the last couple months the man’s mood had become increasingly darker and no one could think of a way to pull him out of his funk. It was most likely connected to the fact that their petition had, once again, been rejected. If things kept on the way they were going then the old building would be torn down and turned into a shopping center. Combeferre watched his best friend and wondered if that was the only reason for his black mood.

“Well, a door and a guy’s fist.” Bahorel admitted. “They were insulting my lady friend.”

The door opened again and Cosette, Marius, Jehan and a dark haired girl walked in; the latter girl rolling her eyes. “I told you, I can handle myself. You’re lucky Marius and Jehan were able to drag that brute off of you.”

“You all went out drinking?” Joly asked disapprovingly as he pressed an ice pack to Bahorel’s face.

Frowning at the uninterested blond hiding behind his laptop, Cosette shook her head. “We were at Jehan’s reading this afternoon. We all went out for ice cream and coffee afterwards and ran into some jerks that wanted to give Eponine a bad time.”

The dark haired girl shrugged. “I’ve heard worse. Gotta say though, hanging with you lot really is a thrill a minute.” Even as she said it she managed to sit as far away from Cosette as possible.

“If you’re all done.” Enjolras snapped. “We need to figure out how we’re going to present our argument at the town meeting next week.”

Courfeyrac shot the group a worried look over the activist’s head as he set down his take out and slunk into his seat. “We’ve got time… It’s not for a while after all.“

“We need to use as much time as we can.” Enjolras looked exhausted. “You know what, fine.” He stood and shoved his computer into his backpack. “I’ll do this part on my own. See you guys tomorrow.”

Combeferre swore and followed his roommate to play clean up as the other young men and women shared nervous glances. Jehan put his head in his arms as Bossuet rubbed his back soothingly and looked around the table. “We need to deal with this.”

“He’s been like this for too long.” Joly agreed. “I know he’s upset about the project not working out but there’s gotta be more to it than that.”

“It’s like he’s off kilter about something.” Marius mumbled. “How long has he been like this?”

“I dunno, since the first petition failed?”

“Since R left.”

Everyone turned and looked at Jehan, who sat up and pushed hair out his face resolutely. “We need to stop avoiding the issue. He did something and Grantaire left and now he regrets it and I’m glad because I miss my friend. I don’t know what he said to him but I hope it’s driving him crazy and that his stupid plan fails. Because I am honestly getting sick of his face and want nothing more than to slap him into the next hemisphere.”

Because everyone flinched at the vindictive tone in the normally kind-hearted boy’s voice, no one noticed the guilty look that Cosette and Marius shared. 

* * *

 

“Jol?” Combeferre peered around the bedroom door and watched his best friend pace back and forth across the carpet. “What do you want for dinner? I was thinking pasta.”

“Whatever.” Enjolras fell onto his bed and rubbed at his eyes in exhaustion. “I don’t care.”

Making a split second decision, Combeferre walked over and hauled the younger man up. “Come on, we’ll order out and watch a movie. You need a break.” Forestalling any arguments by roughly shoving his friend towards the door he continued. “You’ve done all you can. Come on, we can get stuff from that Italian place you like.”

Enjolras sighed and rolled his neck, stretching. “Fine. I’m sorry; I don’t know why I’m so out of it lately. I feel like I’m… a volcano about to erupt. I can’t understand it.”

“You’re stressed.” Combeferre felt some of his irritation drain away as he led his roommate to the couch. “You need to relax and let loose a little. Let’s watch the DVD I borrowed from Eponine.”

“Who’s Eponine?” The blond flopped onto the couch, spreading out his legs and letting out a contented sigh.

“…Seriously?” Combeferre had to bite back a laugh. “The girl that’s been coming with Marius for the last month and a half? She’s his landlord’s daughter and they met a while back? He convinced her to come hang out with the rest of us—she was at the meeting today!”

“I think I’m more out of it than I thought.” Enjolras mumbled, sitting up and scratching his head. “Wonder what else I’ve missed.”

“Hopefully not much.” The older man popped the disc into their player and settled into an armchair as the menu loaded. He flipped out his phone. “What do you want?”

“That angel-hair stuff we got last time. With the diced tomatoes.”

“On it.” As Combeferre made the call, Enjolras sat up at a loud knocking at their door, followed by it being thrown open loudly and slamming against the wall.

“YO! Anybody home?”

“Why did we give him a key?” Enjolras asked his roommate wearily as Courfeyrac wandered into the living room and waved a case of beer in the air.

“Better make that three orders.” Combeferre said calmly before closing his phone and raising an eyebrow. “And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?”

Courfeyrac flopped down next to the blond and handed over a bottle. “Figured you could use some cheering up. That was quite a tantrum you threw back there. What would you have done if someone actually deserved it?”

“I know… I know.” Enjolras ran a hand over his face. “What did I miss?”

“Well, you should be glad that Jehan’s not old enough to drunk text you because I shudder to think what he’d be like without his inhibitions. Other than that, not too much.” Combeferre sighed. “Jol, you need to talk to him.”

“I know.” Enjolras looked blankly at the wall in front of him and began tapping on his leg. “I’m sorry, I really am; everyone just… annoys me. I can’t understand it.”

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow and was about to comment when his cell went off. Holding up a hand apologetically he turned away. “Yeah, ‘lo? Hey Marius, wazzup?” The other two boys sipped their drinks as they watched the partyer slowly look more and more concerned before quickly promising to head out. He flipped off the phone and turned back to them. “So basically, Feuilly and Marius’ apartment just got robbed.”

It took the trio twenty minutes to get to the building. When they arrived Bossuet and Joly had already gotten there and were helping the two boys tidy up their ransacked rooms. Marius was pale and shaking slightly as Joly softly walked him through deep breathing exercises. Feuilly groaned under his breath as he picked up their smashed dishes. “They took the TV, the stereo, most of our DVDs and even some of our clothes. What the hell?”

Eponine appeared at that moment, walking over to hug Marius comfortingly. “Dad called the police and they should be here really soon. Are you okay?”

“At least we weren’t here at the time right?” The young man suddenly paled even more at the thought and swallowed. “Y-Yeah, could have been a lot worse.”

“Are you guys alright?!” Cosette burst into the room, her powder-blue eyes wide and hair pulled messily in a bun. For the normally picture perfect girl, this was a blaring hint that she had dashed over without thinking. She threw herself at her boyfriend, who hugged her tightly and buried his head in her hair. “Oh, baby, I’m so so sorry.”

“I’m alright. I promise.”

Eponine backed away slightly, eyes down and fists clenched. Enjolras was helping Bossuet right the couch and shook his head. “I think that some of us should stick around tonight. Just in case they come back.”

“Agreed.” Jehan and Bahorel had arrived and were looking around the room in surprise. The poet’s eyes were huge. “It looks like these guys could have really messed you both up.”

“Yes, thanks for that.” Joly rolled his eyes as Marius went even paler if that were possible.

“Excuse me?”

They all turned to see a man in the doorway, flanked by two uniformed officers. The man was in his early thirties, with light brown hair and a jaw of stubble. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a badge. “My name is Detective Frasier. We got a call about a breaking and entering?”

“You’re at right place.” Feuilly stepped forward and held out a hand. The older man accepted the handshake and looked around the room.

“How many of you live here?”

“Sorry, just me and Marius over there.” Feuilly rubbed at the back of his neck and managed a tiny grin. “Everyone rushed over when they heard…”

The detective’s eyes were a cloudy blue-gray and they sparked with a slight hint of amusement as he listened. “I’m sorry… Your house was robbed and your first instinct was to text your friends?”

“Have you ever heard of the phrase ‘co-dependent’?” Joly asked with a completely straight face. “Yeah, that.”

The man actually smiled at them. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to just the tenants while these two look around. Can the rest of you head downstairs? You can leave your numbers with my partner in case we need input from you later.” He looked around the room again, grinning. “And since we may end up needing to check your fingerprints, since our crime scene’s been contaminated.”

Combeferre shook his head as the other boys all winced. “We do apologize for that. They weren’t thinking.”

The detective grinned again. “It’s alright. I just need to take your fingerprints.”

“No need.” A deep voice carried from the doorway. “I believe we have information on all of these gentlemen.”

The second detective in the hallway was average height and stocky in build. His eyes were gray and cat-like and joined by a hawk-like nose and strong jaw. Enjolras almost physically bristled at the sight of him and Combeferre immediately moved to grasp his best friend’s arm. The older boy kept a neutral face as he greeted the newcomer. “Detective Javert. It’s been a while.”

The man glared around the room, eyeing over each boy with a look of distain. Jehan moved to stand slightly behind Courfeyrac, who held his hand and glared back impudently. No one noticed the way Cosette nervously turned away and pointedly didn’t look at the man.

“You haven’t met this lot yet, have you Frasier?” Javert calmly walked past Enjolras, who still looked ready to pounce. “They call themselves the Amis. They’ve been public pests for a few years now.”

“We are a peaceful activist group.” The blond snarled.

“I have arrested all of you at least once.” Javert countered but was quickly cut off by Combeferre.

“Most of us have only been detained for minor disturbances of the peace, not arrested… sir.”

The man glared but let it go as his younger partner looked around the room curiously. “Well, for now it sounds like we’re all on the same side so let’s see about getting your belongings back.”

By the time that the police were done, Marius looked a little green around the gills and Enjolras was close to punching someone in the face. Combeferre and Courfeyrac shared a look and nodded before pointedly dragging their friend out the door. As the two detectives left, the younger one with a sympathetic smile, Feuilly put a hand on his roommate’s shoulder. “Hey, Marius, maybe you should stay somewhere else tonight. We can hold down the fort.”

Bossuet patted him on the shoulder. “We got your back, buddy. Go get some sleep.” He shot a look over his shoulder to where Joly was heading out with Jehan. “Hey, tell ‘Chetta goodnight for me.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Bahorel nodded at Marius, who looked torn. “The three of us can handle this. Go relax.” Cosette caught the meaningful look on her friends’ faces and quickly grabbed her boyfriend’s arm.

“Come on, you can stay in the guest room. Papa won’t mind.”

* * *

“Papa?” Jean Valjean looked up from the papers on his desk and smiled at his daughter as she poked her head around the door. “We’re going to watch a movie. Do you want to join us?”

“I’m going to bed soon.” He said, standing and walking over to his daughter to kiss her on the forehead. “Have fun. And you may want to make that young man some tea or something.”

Cosette laughed. “He’s not nearly as shaken up as he was when we got home. Good night, Papa.”

When the young woman joined her boyfriend in the living room he was sorting through the DVDs and frowning thoughtfully. “Do we want action or something fluffier?”

“How about Breakfast Club?” Cosette suggested as she snuggled down next to him on the couch.

“Nhghn…”

The girl glared at his hedging noise and folded her arms. “It is a piece of cultural genius and don’t you dare say otherwise.”

“It’s okay…”

“OKAY? It is so much more than okay!” She twisted in her seat to glare over her shoulder. “Will you please tell him how stupid he’s being?”

Grantaire tried to speak through a mouthful of ice cream as he wandered over. “I’ve gotta go with Cosette here. It’s a great film; twins parts uplifting and cynical as hell.”

Marius threw his hands in the air as Cosette smiled smugly. “Okay, okay, Breakfast Club it is.”

“Jean not joining us?” Grantaire asked as he settled into an armchair and allowed Marius to steal his carton of ice cream.

“He’s going to bed.” Putting in the disc and returning to her boyfriend’s side, she smiled happily. “So tonight it’s just me and my boys.”

“I’m one of your boys right?”

“Yes, R.”

“Oh, okay, good.”

Marius and Cosette held back laughter as the cynic insulted all the trailers and had to resort to beating him with pillows before they all collapsed in a heap on the couch. They were all cuddling and fast asleep by the time the movie ended; as they did nearly every time they watched a film.

The next morning, Marius and Cosette were busy putting the apartment back together when Grantaire slipped in, holding a bag of take-out. “You guys alone?”

“Yeah.” Cosette frowned. “Feuilly and Joly went out to get a new lock and the others are all at work or in class. But you shouldn’t be sneaking around.”

“You promised you wouldn’t do that anymore. Passive aggressive guilt tripping is off limits.” The cynic handed over the food and whistled as he looked around the room. “Man they did a number on this place.”

“It was worse last night.” Marius admitted. “Thanks for bringing the food. You gonna stick around?”

The older man snorted and placed the bags on a table. “I’m pushing my luck as it is, I’d better go back into hiding.”

“R, You really shouldn’t-”

Cosette was cut off as the door behind them creaked open and Grantaire only managed a panicked look before Jehan walked in, mouth open to say something before freezing. The poet stared in shock for a moment as the older man shifted awkwardly. “Hey, Jehan…”

He hit Grantaire like a fright train, sending them both sprawling on the floor as the poet’s backpack hit the ground with a thud. Jehan wrapped his arms tightly around his friend’s neck and screamed into his ear as the cynic winced but bore it patiently. “YOU IDIOT! You stupid, STUPID idiot!! I HATE you, you st-stupid… Where the hell have you BEEN?! I have been w-worried SICK about you! I left… I left you like a thousand text messages and voicemails and you couldn’t j-just let me know y-you were A-ALIVE?! I h-hate you! I…I…I…” The younger man burst into tears and sobbed into his shoulder as Grantaire clung to him and stroked his hair soothingly.

The older man swallowed hard and cuddled the boy close as he tried to think of something to say to him. “I’m so sorry. Jehan, I am so sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t think-”

“No?! Really?!”

“…I deserved that. But I’m serious, I didn’t think you guys would worry that much. I guess I figured that you’d all be relieved that I wasn’t around to annoy you anymore.” At the horrified look on Jehan’s face, Grantaire quickly continued. “I THOUGHT that; past tense! I know it’s stupid, I promise. I was… In a bad way for a while and not really thinking straight.”

“You… You honestly thought…” The poet was holding the older man’s hand like he might try to escape and stared blankly up at him. “Why the HELL would you think that? We love you! You’re our friend.” Then it clicked; a little tickle of an idea in his head that he’d been carrying for months finally slotted completely into place. “I’m going to kill him.”

“…Jehan?”

“I’m going to kill him. I am. That complete JERK! What the hell did he say to you?!”

The older man tried to act confused. “Who?”

“WHO DO YOU THINK?!!” Grantaire thought his friend looked incredible when he was angry; copper hair falling around his round face, hazel eyes flashing and terrifying. Normally Jehan just looked like a puppy. “R, it’s not that hard to figure out. You disappeared. Enjolras has been acting weird ever since and for you to think something like that…” The boy deflated and went back to looking heartbroken. “Why did you leave?”

At that Grantaire shot Cosette a nervous look and the girl walked over to put a hand on her friend’s shoulder as she pried him off of the cynic. “Jehan, let’s go to my house. We can explain there, okay?”

“Wait, you knew?”

She had to wince a little at the hurt in his voice but nodded calmly and pushed him to the door. “Not here, we don’t want to be interrupted.”

* * *

“He said that?” Jehan looked horrified as Grantaire shrugged.

“We all knew that’s how he felt. And he was completely right; I gave up and let him down.”

“But to say that!-”

“I know, but don’t blame him too much okay?” The poet rolled his eyes at that.

“Of course you’d say that even now. Okay, so after you left the bar?”

Grantaire hesitated. “I honestly can’t remember too well. I was drunk and upset… Then Cosette showed up.” The girl nodded as she thought back…

_She should have accepted the ride home. She really should. As the rain began to come down a little harder she pulled her sweater closer around her and cut through the park. It had been such a nice night and now this. Her phone vibrated and she pulled it out briefly (It was Combeferre) before shoving it away. She’d look when she got home. As she ran past the duck pond she was startled to see a huddled form on one of the benches. Maybe it was her father’s influence but she slowed to look at the figure closer and with a jolt realized she recognized the messy, and now soaked, curls._

_“…Grantaire?”_

_The drunk’s knees were pulled up to his chest and his face was hidden behind them and his arms. Cosette was a little uncomfortable as she and the cynic hadn’t spoken much but she couldn’t stand to leave him like this. “M. Grantaire?”_

_“I’m not the best company right now.” His voice was strange. From the way he was shaking she’d assumed that he’d been crying but his voice didn’t falter at all as he spoke._

_“Is there any way I can help you?” She asked quietly as she sat next to him, ignoring the rain. “You shouldn’t be out here, it’s not healthy.”_

_He finally looked up, hair in his eyes. She liked his eyes, they were moss green and sparkled with mischief but now they were almost gray and devoid of emotion. He frowned slightly and then laughed hollowly. “Healthy… I am so incredibly the farthest thing from… You have no idea.”_

_“Then tell me.” She murmured, sliding a little closer and looking him over. “Just talk. Whatever pops into your head.” For a long moment he was silent and Cosette was afraid he wasn’t going to respond. Then-_

_“I had to drop out of college because I was failing most of my classes and never actually showed up because I was always drunk and unfocused. Then I got laid off for the same reasons and couldn’t pay my rent because of it and now I have,” He checked a watch on his left wrist. “Three hours to get my crap out of my apartment before they sell it. And as if that weren’t enough-as if the world hadn’t proven what a complete loser I am-I tried, for once in my life, to show him that I could actually be somewhat useful and royally screwed it all up. I am so pathetic that I can’t even do a simple task without messing it up and failing him…”_

_Even now the young man wasn’t crying. Just sitting there and staring ahead blankly. Cosette swallowed hard, not needing to ask who ‘he’ was. “…Grantaire… Would you like to come home with me? I’m sure my papa would like to help you out.”_

_He jerked away as though he’d been burned and began backing off as she stood to follow him. “I don’t need your help. I’m not… I don’t want your pity.”_

_“It’s not pity.” He raised an eyebrow and she blew out a breath. “Alright, it’s a little bit pity. But it’s also because I like you and I want to help and you don’t deserve to be out here alone like this.”_

_He looked at her for a long time before managing a crooked grin. “You’re the first person to actually admit you’re pitying me. Weirdly refreshing… Always annoying when people assume you can’t tell that they’re trying to fix you.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for that, princess.”_

_He was about to pull away when she grabbed his wrist and held on tight. Holding her breath she pulled him close and put a hand behind his head to keep his face pressed into her neck. Praying she was right about this, Cosette felt the older man stiffen as she clung to him; his arm on her shoulder now clenching at her sweater to keep his balance and his other arm floating uselessly behind her._

_Then he began to shake and both arms wrapped around her neck as she tangled her hand in his curls and held on to him for dear life. He was taller than her and it was a little awkward but she stayed like that with him in the pouring rain as he, not cried, he still wasn’t crying, but nonetheless broke down in her arms._

_When Jean opened the door a half an hour later and raised an eyebrow in question, Cosette just smiled nervously as she squeezed Grantaire’s hand tightly. “So, can we keep him?”_

* * *

“You have to see everyone.” Jehan insisted, gripping Grantaire’s arm. “You have no idea how much everyone’s been worried. Omigosh, Joly and Bossuet went ballistic when you disappeared, they’ve been worried sick. I get that you thought that you weren’t welcome at the meetings-which is a lie and I promise that everyone will want to kick Enjy’s face in for implying that-but you could have at least mentioned where you were so we knew you weren’t dead!”

Grantaire ran a hand over his face, which Jehan couldn’t help but notice was clean-shaven for once, and sighed heavily. “I didn’t want you to see me the way I was back then. I guess I was embarrassed.”

“Why would—‘Taire, what possible reason would you have to think that--”

The older man rolled his eyes and leaned over to whisper in his ear. Slowly Jehan’s eyes widened and he began to smile before screaming loudly and flinging himself onto the cynic who laughed at the younger boy’s delighted face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **So I was going to wait to post more but I feel bad about that ending so here you go.**
> 
> **Image is mine from my deviantART account. Please do not repost anywhere.**


	3. Chapter Two

Enjolras rolled over in his bed and blinked dazedly up at the ceiling before casting a look at the clock on his bedside table. It was only six thirty on a Saturday morning but already his phone was buzzing. The activist grabbed at it and scowled down at the text.

 

_Hey. With Bahorel at ER. Long story._

_Jehan didnt come home last night._

_Call 4 me?_

_-Courfeyrac (ISaBOSS)_

Enjolras groaned and sat up, already punching the number in as he warred between irritation at his friends in general and concern for one in particular. When the poet didn't pick up, the blond typed out a text and hoped he just couldn't hear the phone or-

 

_Hi. Srry bout this. Forgot to call 'Rac._

_I'm fine, staying over at a friend's._

_:) Jehan XX_

The man sighed in relief and typed back.

 

_I'll let your idiot roommates know._

_-E_

_Did you get any sleep last night?_

_:) Jehan XX_

_Enough._

_-E_

Almost immediately Enjolras felt guilty for the abrupt response and continued with:

 

_Until some idiot woke me up anyway._

_:P Have fun at your friend's._

_-E_

_You have a nice day too._

_:) Don't work too hard._

_:) Jehan XX_

Enjolras smiled ruefully as he leapt out of bed and hurried to get his roommate up so they could go out for food.

On the other side of town, Grantaire guiltily put down the phone and stared ahead absentmindedly. He looked down, ruffled Jehan's hair, and extracted himself from the cuddle pile that had developed over night before sneaking off to get some painting done.

* * *

Detective Ramin Frasier knew his partner was hard to get along with, but no one could doubt his dedication to the work and that counted for something. Right? As the man looked around the spotless office to the desk covered in files and take out, he reminded himself to amp up his campaign to get the older man a girlfriend. He placed a coffee on the desk and eyed his partner nervously. "Did you go home last night?"

"There were three more burglaries between eleven last night and five this morning." Javert muttered.

The younger man groaned and slumped into a seat. "Seriously? And they think it was our guys?"

"Unfortunately." Javert drained his coffee and eyed his partner thoughtfully. "It had the same methods as the others and the take was about the same. You didn't go home either."

"Guilty." The younger man laughed nervously. "I was at my fiancé's house. Anyway, did you find anything in the statements from last night?"

Choosing to ignore the fact that his partner had made a visit to his woman in the middle of a case the older man tapped a file. (Let it never be said that Javert didn't know how to pick his battles) "They didn't see anything. Even if they did, they're less than reliable witnesses."

"They seemed nice enough." Frasier said off-handedly and then immediately regretted it when the older man glared and slammed a heavy stack of files onto the table. It was an impressive collection; each file was crammed full of papers and Frasier had to bite back a laugh. "How often have you had to deal with these kids?"

"More than I'd like." Frasier opened the first file and began to read.

The first paper was labeled 'Anton Joly' and a photo showed the redhead who had smart-mouthed him the night before. He smiled as he continued to read; age 22, med student in his fourth year, been detained during a rally that had dissolved into a riot and promptly assured the arresting officers that he'd developed a case of pneumonia during his stay in the holding cell. Fascinating.

The next one was a large intimidating man that had been detained in the same rally for punching an officer that had tried to manhandle two of the smaller men. Brian Lesgle was 31, studying law and had a ridiculously long medical history. It would seem the young man had undergone every injury possible.

29 year old Luc Bahorel had been arrested four separate times; twice during a rally and twice for a couple of nasty bar fights where he nearly hospitalized his opponents. Frasier rather liked the look of the snarky and tough boy, who was apparently studying whatever struck his fancy, and had seemingly little interest in actually graduating. The next file was rather smaller than most of the others and unlike his companions, not a student.

Nathan Feuilly was 27 and only seemed to have dealt with the police on a few sparse occasions. Frasier felt a jolt of sympathy as he looked over the papers from a local boys home, describing the kid's childhood.

The sight of the petit boy with a braid long enough to throw over his shoulder made him smile. This one he remembered. Jean Prouvaire was only 19, obviously the youngest of these student activists; a student of sociology of all things, and a bit of a spitfire if the reports of him apparently knocking out a man at a protest were true.

23 years old, Jacques Courfeyrac came from a high-class family and was known to throw a punch or two. It seemed that on the occasions where bail was needed it was his family lawyer that got them all out.

The two largest stacks were at the bottom. The first was of Raoul Combeferre, a 24 year old law and philosophy student who had a list of brushes with the law that went all the way back to his junior year of high school. Nonetheless the man seemed to be a good student and obviously knew the system well because almost all of the charges against him ended up dropped.

Now the last file… It was twice the size of the others. The photo was of a stunningly attractive young man who stared challengingly at the camera. Right, this was the one who looked ready to deck Javert the night before… Julian Enjolras, 22, also studying law and… "Bloody hell…" Frasier looked up in shock. "His father is…"

"He's been disinherited but yes." Javert scowled. "For a politician's brat, he's more trouble than he's worth."

The file indicated that the boy had been getting in trouble with the authorities since middle school. As well as his protests and rallies, the boy was a part of many organizations and charities that had been a part of many successful social revolutions. Frasier couldn't help but be impressed. "Are you sure these kids wouldn't be helpful?"

Javert glared hard enough that Frasier could actually feel the stare burning a hole into his face.

* * *

Grantaire stumbled into the kitchen, yawning in exhaustion, and just managed to get out a 'good morning' before almost tripping over his own feet. Valjean looked up from the stove and smiled. "Good morning. Coffee's on the counter. Eggs will be done soon."

"Merci." Grantaire tugged at the drawstring of his pajama bottoms, which hung precariously on his hips and stumbled to the machine. "I'll look at the gutter later today if that's alright? Looks a little clogged up."

"That's fine with me. I have to go out of town later, so if you could make sure Cosette gets where she needs to today, that would be a great help." The man smiled. "I suppose your friend is still asleep?"

"Out like a light. Thanks for letting us do these impromptu sleep overs."

Valjean smiled kindly and chuckled. "I wasn't about to let that one drive himself home at that hour of the night. You certainly got him wound up."

The young man leaned against the counter with the mug warming his hands; stormy green eyes stared down at the drink and he took a deep breath. "After months of no communication… Small wonder he's mad."

"Have you explained why?" Valjean moved to stand next to him, staring at him earnestly.

"Yes, and he says he still wishes I'd told him but…" Grantaire smiled sadly. "He gets it."

"I knew he would." Valjean said firmly, grasping the thin shoulder next to him and waiting until the young man looked up at him. "He cares about you. Your friends will support you no matter what you decide next."

A flood of gratitude made Grantaire hide his flushed face behind his cup as he watched the older man continue on breakfast. Valjean kept an eye on the cynic as he sat at the table and began drawing.

_Hangovers were hell and that was Grantaire's only thought as he woke up._

_His head was aching, his body hurt and he shivered even under a thick quilt—and that made him open his eyes in confusion. This was not his bed. The drunk sat up and looked around the room, head still spinning. It was a lovely room, neat and comforting but none of that made the young man feel any calmer as he huddled in the blankets. He couldn't remember where he was or what had happened the night before and that sensation always terrified him. He took steadying breaths as he fell back against the pillows and covered his eyes with his hands._ _He could remember… The rent, he couldn't pay the rent… And then the bar and –-his breath caught painfully-Enjolras, angry and telling him… and then he was in the park and it was raining and…_

_"R?"_

_Oh, right, Cosette._

_He could kind of remember reaching her house and collapsing onto their couch as voices spoke urgently above him. Now as the girl walked in, bearing a tray and smiling cheerfully, he felt the shame building up in his chest. "Hey now, none of that." The girl said firmly as she set the tray down and went to let the soft morning light through one of the windows. "Papa went to your apartment last night and Marius helped him gather all your things. I didn't know you two were neighbors." "_

_I think 'were' is the key word there." Even he winced at the way his voice sounded. He looked blankly at the plate of eggs and toast accompanied by a mug of tea and another of coffee before rubbing at his eyes, trying to force his mind to catch up to what was going on. "So… So he knows what happened."_

_The slight creaking of a floorboard made him look up and catch sight of said young man lurking in the doorway. Marius wasn't sure what kind of reaction he was going to get; for all that they saw each other at meetings he wasn't very close with the older boy and this felt like an incredibly personal moment. Grantaire for his part looked scared as he sat there, surrounded by blankets, tray in front of him and dressed in what must have been Valjean's clothing. For the first time, Marius realized that the drunk wasn't much older than him. He'd always assumed, because of the drunk's worldly attitude…_

_"…I know that you've been evicted. Cosette wouldn't tell me anything else."_

_"_ _It wasn't my story to tell." The girl said softly as she sat next to Grantaire on the bed. "No one else knows you're here and they won't until you want them to. I promise."_

_"I think I ought to go." He tried to untangle himself but Cosette pushed him back gently and he blinked owlishly at her before picking up the coffee and sipping it slowly. Despite his headache, all he really wanted was a bottle. Cosette smiled approvingly and stood up._

_"I know you don't want to be a bother but you have nowhere to go and we have plenty of room. You can stay here until you land on your feet."_

_"I don't…"_

_"Hey!" The small girl whirled and glared at the boy, pointing a finger. "I'm sorry, maybe you've misunderstood. You have no choice in the matter."_

_Grantaire stared at her for a long moment before turning back to his breakfast despite the pounding in his head. "Why are all the girls I know so bossy?"_

"Papa!" Cosette's voice startled Grantaire from his drawings as the blonde threw herself at Valjean and hugged him. "Are you making pancakes too? Because Jehan is a vegetarian."

Valjean smiled at the shy boy who inched into the kitchen, pulling at his sweater nervously. "Plenty of pancakes, fruit, and coffee for all. Sleep well, son?"

"Yessir, thank you for letting me stay over." He clambered onto Grantaire's lap as the older boy grinned. "R, why are you up so early?"

"I actually get up before noon now." The cynic said with a straight face.

"It's a miracle!" Jehan cried cheekily as he pretended to faint and fall to the floor, Marius having to step over him to get to a seat.

"By the way, you got a text this morning. You didn't tell 'Feyrac you weren't coming home and he got worried."

Eyes widening, Jehan smacked his forehead. "I didn't even think about letting them know. Drat, and this after me yelling at them about late nights…"

"I guess he was calling around in a bit of a panic." Grantaire shrugged. "Someone else had to get ahold of you so I'm guessing you're doing that thing where you blocked his number again?"

"Yeeeeaaahhh… He's been-Wait, so who called?"

The older man continued to sketch in his book, pointedly ignoring the curious look on the little poet's face. Jehan frowned and stared at the lowered green eyes thoughtfully before gasping and looking over the artist's shoulder at Cosette and Marius. "Omigosh, he was texting Enjolras…"

Cosette was on him before he could blink, grabbing his arm and shaking it hard. "Well?!"

"He didn't know it was me!" The cynic yelped while Marius wearily accepted a cup of coffee from Valjean. "It was Jehan's phone so I let him think it was him. It's not a big deal." Cosette and Jehan both shook their heads enthusiastically.

"It's the closest you've come to facing him so far." The girl beamed. "It's a start."

"Shall I say grace or would someone else like to?" Valjean asked as he sat down and the four younger people sheepishly calmed down and joined him.

Jehan's hand shot up and the boy quickly began to recite, "God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food. By his hands, we are fed, thank you God, for our daily bread. This food looks good, by jove I think, no more waiting, time to eat! Amen!"

Valjean chuckled. "Now I know who you are. Cosette's talked about how much fun she had with you in that poetry class. I don't know much about the subject but she's read me some of your work I enjoyed it very much." Beaming, Jehan began chatting with the man while Grantaire and Marius began a quiet conversation.

Cosette looked around the table where all her boys were getting along and smiled happily. Grantaire was listening to Marius with the look that Joly had once called the 'cat who ate the canary' grin and was the bane of his friends' existences. "All I'm saying, R, is that I don't see why everyone had to say that it was such a bad play…" 

"It's not that it's a bad play." The older man said patiently. "It's that, of all his works, it's the most ridiculous, and I'm counting Twelfth Night here. The premise that these two kids meet and just fall head over heels for each other is preposterous."

"Not necessarily." Marius mumbled shyly, looking over at Cosette, who grinned prettily. Grantaire lurched out of his chair and fell into the other man's lap, waving his arms wildly.

"I am agog, I am aghast! Beware sweet Marius, 'These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume!"

"Get off, you lump." Marius shoved him off, fighting a twitch of a smile.

The cynic hauled himself up, clinging to the table edge. "Your classmates are just messing with you because you're a romantic and fun to tease. You're right too, there are some great moments and messages in the play."

Jehan jumped in. "And after all, no matter what you think of the message you have to admit that the prose is amazing."

"Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?!"

"'Taire, shut up." The little poet shrugged. "Romeo and Juliet was my first play, it was what got me into poetry. I remember reading: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite."

Grantaire grabbed for more coffee. "I like 'Don't waste your love on somebody, who doesn't value it.' Real words of wisdom there."

"R…"

"That and 'Peace? I hate the word as I hate hell and all Montagues.' I dunno why but that always makes me laugh."

Valjean smiled ruefully. "I think you would have gotten along famously with The Bard." The smile that the young man gave him back was genuine and made the old man sigh into his coffee as the young people continued their arguments and fun; his mind drifting…

_Valjean wanted to like the young man who had become a member of their household but unfortunately the boy seemed to be avoiding him. For someone who had been spoken of as a loud and passionate debater, 'R' remained quiet and subdued. He brushed off attempts to talk and spent much of his time staring into space; as though deep in thought and working out a puzzle that was giving him trouble. While he avoided Valjean, however, Grantaire seemed to have become attached to Cosette almost unhealthily; following her around like a lost puppy and silently watching them go about their lives._

_It was a gray Sunday morning as Valjean looked at the hunched figure in the pew next to him and figured out why he felt so strongly about this boy. As Grantaire looked around the church nervously, waiting for Cosette to return to them, the mistrust in his eyes was glaring. This was one of those things that Valjean could remember well. Leaving prison had been hard. Attempting to regain his trust in his fellow man was even harder. He could remember all too well the sensation that every face he saw was judging him; that he was never going to feel accepted again…_

_"Jean, may I speak to you for a moment?"_

_Valjean looked up and smiled. "Pastor, hello."_

_Pastor Myriel looked from his friend to the newcomer sitting at his side. "I see you've brought a guest. What's your name, son?"_

_It had been a while since the young cynic had been called that, that much was obvious. Valjean watched the boy flinch and stare up at the elderly man in shock. Walking through life, never expecting any love or understanding, assuming that you were going to be rejected and pushed away… Valjean knew that life so well and seeing it in another was hard to bear. "…Grantaire." The cynic shrugged, as though accepting his fate. "I'm… Staying with Jean and Cosette."_

_"Indeed." Myriel stood there for a long moment and Valjean was tempted to break the awkward silence when the boy looked down._

_"I got kicked out of my apartment for being an alcoholic." If the surprised look on his face was any indication, Grantaire had not intended to share that. His face reddened and he hunched over, tensing as though readying himself for a blow. His eyes were screwed shut so he only heard the soft sound of fabrics moving and the slight creak of the hardwood floor. Grantaire wrenched his eyes open and found himself looking at the elderly pastor, who had moved to his knees to be eye-level with the boy._

_Myriel reached out slowly and put a hand on Grantaire's shoulder, smiling sadly. "I am sorry to hear that. But you are in the best of hands with Jean and his daughter. I hope you'll be coming again. Cosette says you're an artist, I would love to see some of your work one day." He saw the surprised look on the young man's face and smiled again, this time a little sadly. "You're more than welcome here, son."_

_Grantaire lurched to his feet, dodging past both men and running for the door as Valjean stood to go after him. Outside, Grantaire was taking deep, shuddering breaths and leaning against the old brick wall. Valjean stood next to him silently, letting the kid… The kid who hadn't had a drink in—how could he not have noticed? "Son, are you alright?"_

_"Stop calling me that!" Grantaire slid to the ground, putting his head in his hands and rubbing at his eyes. "You… You're not all supposed to act like this. You… You should be…"_

_Valjean joined the young man on the ground and nodded his understanding. "Your addiction is not reason for you to be cast aside. How long has it been since you had a drink?"_

_"I… I think it's been two days but it may be longer. It feels longer." He kept rubbing at his face and tried to decide what to say next. He couldn't remember the last time someone had spoken to him about his problem without judgment or resignation. Most of the Amis had begun to resent him for not even caring about his health, and those like Jehan who worried about him had given up on his chances. "I've never… One of my friends used to tell me that the reason that I-I never get anywhere is because I don't believe in anything." Valjean put an arm around his shoulders and pointedly looked ahead as the young man began to rub at his arms and let out a weak and strangled laugh that sounded more like a whimper._

_"Grantaire, what made you run off?"_

_"Didn't Cosette tell you?" The young man's voice was strained._

_"No. She told me what happened but I want to know why this was different. I've met your friend I doubt that he's an easy man to know. What happened on that night in particular?"_

_"It's one thing for him to hate me for being unwilling to try; I deserve that. I did though. Try. And…" The rubbing was slowly turning into scratching as the young man closed his eyes. "I couldn't do it. The moment that the job got hard, I physically couldn't bring myself to do it. All I could think about was how hard it felt and how scared I was of failing and I felt sick. I've always sort of felt like this and it's so much easier to just not try because then there's no pressure and let's face it, I'm too much of a screw up to actually achieve anything."_

_"When you face a problem, is it like a wall is in front of you? Halting your movements?" Valjean gently removed the young man's hands from where they were coming dangerously close to injuring himself as Grantaire jolted in shock. The young drunk was starting to shake._

_"Yes, and I feel like I'm buried in sand and can't move and can't breathe and it scares me."_

_"You're not alone." The older man held his position and made sure to keep his voice low and comforting. "I have many friends who have gone through the same thing. Son, this is not something that makes you a bad person. This does not make you weak."_

_"I ran because I can't keep doing this anymore. I can't keep failing them and not caring and just… existing. I CAN'T anymore!" Grantaire looked up desperately at Valjean. "I actually want… I want so many things but more than anything I don't…" As the young cynic struggled to get the words out, the older man wordlessly pulled him into a hug and put a hand on the top of his head._

_"Son, you don't have to figure it out by yourself. This is a long process but Cosette and I will help you. You're not alone, child." Grantaire shook for a moment before burying his head in the older man's shoulder and crying. The drunk clung to Valjean in desperation as years of repressed anger and pain finally released. Valjean smiled in relief as he rocked the young man. This was a step in the right direction._

* * *

Frasier sighed and rubbed at his neck as he looked around the shop and took in the smashed glass that littered the floor. He nodded at a beat cop to finish clearing out the scene and looked over to where Javert was going through the smashed cash register. "This is getting ridiculous. How are these guys getting away with this?"

"We need to step up patrols in the area." Javert shook his head and joined the younger man. "Maybe a show of more man power will help deter them."

Frasier sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Deterrence is one thing. Passing on justice is another."

Javert smiled fondly; well aware that some of his own stubbornness was rubbing off on his partner. "Come on Remy. We have reports to write."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I hope this is edited correctly, I've had a long couple weeks and I'm kind of spacey at the moment but wanted to update for you all. I'm very encouraged by the number of hits my story is getting so thanks to everyone reading this. But if any of you could take the time to do some sort of comment, I'd appreciate it. Feedback is really helpful to me and constructive criticism, questions and telling me what you're enjoying really aids my writing. Thanks so much for reading.**


	4. Chapter Three

Bahorel threw his fists in the air and let out a loud and irritating screech of victory as Feuilly moaned and put his head in his hands. “I give up, how the hell are you so good at this?”

The boxer grinned wolfishly and twirled his paddle with one hand. “I am the Ping-Pong king. Anyone else wanna give it a go?”

Bossuet stood up from where he was sitting with his roommates, gently pulling Musichetta from his lap and making his way to the table. The girl and Joly both began to cheer on their friend as he snatched the other paddle from a relieved looking Feuilly. “If only to shut you up, ‘my liege’.”

“En guard, ‘peasant’.”

Ignoring them, Jehan made his way through the group and sat next to Musichetta; the woman smiling knowingly and putting an arm around his shoulders. “Alright, little man. What’s wrong?”

The poet sighed and slumped in his seat. “Courfeyrac’s got his girlfriend over at the apartment and they were being all ‘touchy’ in the living room. I can’t believe that I got chased out of my own house.”

Joly rolled his eyes, “I figured you and ‘Rel would be used to that crap by now.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier.” Bahorel muttered as he plopped down on the couch next to his roommate; the three-person seat becoming crowded with the addition of the larger boy. “You know that’s why he’s living with us right? He tried it with ‘Ferre and Enjy and our fine leader put the fear of God into him. Of course I could have told you that it would happen; ‘Rac and Enjolras living together? Yeah right…”

“Weren’t you playing Ping-Pong?”

“Bossuet broke the paddle.”

The large man looked sheepish as he sat on the floor in front of them. “I’ll pay them for it.”

Feuilly had settled next to him on the floor, looking a little uncomfortable about being in the University’s rec room. Musichetta looked up from where she was braiding Jehan’s hair. “Speaking of your ‘fearless leader’, has anyone thought about maybe telling him to back off on that project of his?”

“That’s a little bit like telling the grass to stop being green.” Joly sighed. “Let’s face it, we can’t talk him out of it and he’ll do it no matter what anyone says.”

Feuilly frowned. “The thing about your analogy is that grass does change color; when it dies during the summer. If we don’t say something soon, he’s going to be forced to stop when he collapses from exhaustion or stress. Remember when I tried to juggle three jobs and ended up in the hospital?” 

“My point exactly.” The woman finished tying off her friend’s hair and turned to the rest of the group. “You lot need to get him to take a step back for a while.”

They all exchanged looks that quite clearly said ‘easier said than done’. Feuilly sighed. “Doesn’t help that none of us can really stand up to him in a debate.”

* * *

“’Taire!” Cosette hopped out of her boyfriend’s car and hurried up the driveway, dodging puddles and pulling her pale pink windbreaker tighter around her.

Grantaire looked down from the roof and smiled at her. “Hey, Princess. How was class?”

“R, can you come down? I wanna talk to you about something.” 

The cynic rolled his eyes and went back to his task; but not before playfully dropping some gunk near the girl, who squealed and darted out of the way. “If this is another attempt to get me to ‘engage with others’…”

“You. Down here. Now.”

The young man clambered down the ladder and leapt lightly to stand before her, eyebrow cocked. “May I help you, madam?”

“Inside.”

They walked into the house, the man rubbing furiously at his hands to get the gunk off as the girl opened the door for him frostily. Cosette allowed him to duck out to change into clean clothes and made herself some tea as she grumbled under her breath. Once Grantaire had wandered back over, in a clean gray t-shirt and jeans, she turned to him and pointed with her stirring spoon.

“There’s an Amis meeting tonight. You should come.” Grantaire sighed and moved to the refrigerator, ignoring the younger girl; but she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “R, it’s been a very, very long time. They miss you. You heard everything Jehan told you last night. You can’t stay a ghost; you need to get back into…life!”

Pulling out a bottle of coke, Grantaire kicked the fridge shut and moved toward the table. “Cosette, no. We’ve talked about this; going to a meeting would be a step back.”

“No it wouldn’t!” She sat next to him and grasped his arm. “I think it would be a step forward. You can’t fully heal unless you address… Well…” 

“I know.” He shook his head as he sipped from his drink. “But… Not yet; I’m not ready.”

She sighed and began to flip through one of his sketchbooks. “You’re never going to be ready.”

“Hey now…” He reached over to put a hand under her chin and forced eye contact. “Why the gloomy mood?”

She pouted, running a finger over the delicate brush-strokes of one of his better paintings. “I just want to help you all, but everyone’s so stubborn.”

“Who else is having trouble?” Grantaire sipped from his soda and leaned back, looking curious.

“Papa’s been… Acting strange lately. He saw something on the TV last week and…”

The young man understood. He too had noticed the odd behavior from the man. 

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. “I’m sure that whatever it is, Jean has it under control.”

“But…”

“No buts.” He glared. “Go on, you’ve got a paper to finish.”

The young man leaned back in his seat, staring off into space and holding the bottle loosely in his hand. It had been a while. Cosette and Marius kept him busy and entertained but he did miss some of the others; seeing Jehan again had been fantastic and not as uncomfortable as he’d thought. He placed his drink on the table and moved his head into his hands, sighing in frustration. Grantaire knew full well that sooner or later he needed to face his old friends; he loved them too much not to. He’d come so far, grown so much in the last six months and he had nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing. Not a thing.

So why the hell was he so nervous?

Sighing again, the artist pulled his chair closer to the table and rested his head on his arms as he closed his eyes.

* * *

“Enjolras… Enjolras!” 

The activist’s head snapped up and he blinked owlishly up at Combeferre’s smiling face before realizing he’d fallen asleep again. He straightened in his seat and looked around the room. “Sorry, late night.”

It had taken a couple hours for him to fall asleep and he’d woken early in the morning to find himself crying. Needless to say, that had freaked him out slightly and he’d gotten up immediately, trying to remember what he’d seen in his dreaming that had shaken him so badly. Enjolras was beginning to hate the sight of his petitions and papers, they seemed to laugh at him in their stacks, reminding him of how much work was still to be done. Needing a break, he’d gone out that afternoon to get his mind off of it and met up with Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Bahorel and-

“Marius?”

The young man looked up from his notes and smiled at the perplexed look on his friend’s face. Enjolras pushed away his book and looked around the café. “Where…” 

“They went to get food.” The boy admitted. “You were pretty out of it and we decided to get some pizzas or something before the meeting starts.”

“Ah.” Enjolras nodded, rubbing at his face. Combeferre watched with a certain amount of concern. 

His best friend’s behavior was becoming more and more erratic; though he’d never admit it to him, he’d woken to distressed sounds from Enjolra’s room that morning and been rather frightened. Enjolras never had nightmares and it was just another of many small inconsistencies that had the man wondering if an intervention was needed. He was pulled out of his thoughts by the return of their companions. Soon the whole group had arrived and they began a heated discussion on the upcoming rally.

Feuilly was shaking his head nervously. “I just think we ought to tone it down a little, you know?”

“We can’t afford to be subtle anymore.” Enjolras snapped. “We’re running out of time. If we don’t get some public support soon, we’ll loose the building.”

From his seat at the activist’s left, Courfeyrac frowned in annoyance. The meeting was almost half over and it had been completely spent as an argument between some of the boys and Enjolras. This wasn’t working; the blonde’s temper was holding them back from reaching any sort of agreement. The young man leaned over to whisper to Cosette. “Any clue what ‘Jol’s problem is?”

The girl looked up from her phone. “Why do you ask? Why would I know?”

“I dunno. Woman’s intuition?”

“If we weren’t in a meeting I’d slap you.”

* * *

Grantaire paced the length of the dining room, rubbing at his face. He looked up at the clock, noting that the Amis meeting was most likely half over at this point and drummed his fingers against his leg.

_It’s a bad idea._

He gritted his teeth and leaned against the wall.

_It won’t make a difference._

Eyes shut tightly, he tried to ignore the pounding in his head and jerked toward the kitchen. He scrambled for his sketchbook, opening to a blank page and scribbling absent-mindedly. As he finished shading what was shaping up to be a garden wall, the pounding was almost gone and he began to breathe a little easier. Pushing the book away he grabbed his soda and took a long drag as his eyes trailed over to a piece of paper lying near the phone. He pulled it over and looked it over with a small smile; Valjean’s handwriting was messy and the notes he took when he was on the phone were always choppy and never made sense to anyone but him. The cynic was about to shove it away when his eye caught a small bit of red writing on the notepad.

“Great Things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together.”

_-There’s an Amis meeting tonight. You should come. You can’t stay a ghost; you need to get back into life. You can’t fully heal unless you address… Where the hell have you BEEN?! You’re our friend. I have been worried SICK about you! Your friends will support you no matter what you decide next. We love you!-_

_You’re not alone, child._

Grantaire stared at the paper for a long moment before groaning. “Oh… HELL.”

* * *

Cosette sighed and slumped in her seat. The meeting had ended five minutes ago and STILL the boys were arguing. It didn’t help that some of them had downed a couple drinks and Enjolras was starting to snap. The girl turned to bury her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder and blinked at the astonished look on his face; his warm eyes lit up and a huge grin spread across his face as he looked down at her.

She followed his gaze and her jaw dropped at the sight of Grantaire slowly entering the room, looking from one person to the next with a wistful smile. She put a hand over her mouth and felt a pricking in her eyes as he caught her gaze and grinned nervously. 

Courfeyrac noticed the stiffening of the girl next to him and looked up to ask what was wrong, catching sight of the cynic hovering nearby. Without a word and grinning like a loon, the young man practically vaulted over the table and tackled Grantaire even as Joly and Bossuet turned and sprang to their feet with excited shouts. All four boys toppled to the floor as they clung to each other, laughing and squeezing tightly. The rest of the boys were a bit more subdued but showed their excitement, even Combeferre smiled broadly and nodded at the cynic.

Bahorel and Jehan managed to pull the boys off of Grantaire and the poet hugged him tightly. “Thanks.” He mumbled into the dark curls as the cynic kissed his cheek.

“Just don’t leave me alone with these people.”

Grantaire enjoyed the laugh that Jehan had to stifle in his shoulder as he stood up, waving awkwardly at the group. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Feuilly grinned back. “So where the hell have you been?”

“Oh you know.” Grantaire laughed nervously. “Around…”

“He’s been staying with me.” Cosette said calmly. “Sorry not to tell any of you but he wouldn’t let me.”

The look on the cynic’s face screamed betrayal as she stared calmly back and a few of the boys laughed. Combeferre drew up a chair and nodded. “Come on then R; have a seat. We can get you a drink.”

Swallowing hard, Grantaire accepted the seat between Joly and Bossuet and shook his head. “I’m good. Actually, do you guys have any water?”

“Seriously?” Bahorel asked, raising an eyebrow and scoffing. “Since when do you pass up a free drink?" 

Cosette, Marius and Jehan all looked at Grantaire with a little concern as he straightened and took another deep breath. “Since about two months ago.”

There was a long moment of silence and then Joly managed. “So… You haven’t had a drink in…”

Grantaire smiled shyly.

* * *

Enjolras could pinpoint the exact moment his brain stopped working upon seeing Grantaire enter the room. The excited yells from his friends sounded muffled and hazy as he stared at the cynic. He barely heard Cosette’s explanation and the response from his best friend went over his head as he stared at the dark haired boy.

_-You are quite possibly the most ignorant, irritating waste of space that I have ever met!-_

Why was he remembering this now? He managed to pull himself from the fog in time to hear the comment about Grantaire’s drinking and see the tiny, strange smile on the cynic’s face. That was a weird smile, it looked real; which lead to him realizing that the smiles he was used to seeing on the older man were fake and why did that matter?

Joly was ranting at Grantaire, checking his forehead and rambling on about withdrawal symptoms as the cynic laughed. He managed to push the redhead off of him and disentangle Bossuet from the crushing hug he’d pulled him into. “Yes, trust me, I know all about the downsides of sobriety.” He sighed and accepted a cup of water from Feuilly. “That’s why I sort of cut myself off from you all. Trust me, you didn’t want to see that.”

“I think you should have let us decide that.” Courfeyrac looked horrified. “My uncle went cold turkey; he really needed support during the withdrawal phase." 

“I had Cosette and Jean. I was fine.” Grantaire assured him. “Look, I’m sorry guys. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Joly put a hand over his forehead. “Either he’s actually sick or he’s a pod person.”

Marius grinned. “It’s him, we promise. It’s alright R; we were done anyway. Hey, show them the tat.”

Blushing, Grantaire pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and revealed a small tattoo on his wrist. It was a beautiful, swooping script in black ink that read December 22 2013. As Bossuet and Bahorel looked it over appreciatively Grantaire explained. “It’s the day I went cold turkey. Well, I tried a few other times but this is the time it worked. When I hit a whole year of being sober I’m getting another one on my other arm.”

Feuilly grinned. “That’s a great idea. I’m really happy for you.”

“Yeah, well.” Grantaire shrugged. “It was time to commit to being part of life instead of distracting myself from crap by drinking myself to death.” 

_-If you’re not going to commit and just waste our time then I don’t want you at the meetings. You’re just a distraction-_

Enjolras felt like he’d been physically punched at that and made the mistake of looking up and catching Grantaire’s eye. They stared at each other for a moment, Enjolras’ mouth dry and for the first time in a very long time unable to think of something to say. Grantaire suddenly grinned.

“Not that I’ve started thinking that most of the crap you guys talk about is reasonable. I mean come on; Cosette says that you’re still working on that condemned building. Seriously, it’s been six months!” 

“It’s a worthwhile cause.” Everyone jumped as Enjolras finally responded. He voice was steady and held that irritated undertone they were all used to at this point. Combeferre looked at him nervously. 

“Yeah, don’t get me wrong.” Grantaire shrugged. “All for it, but after six months, you’d think you’d take a hint and see that these people aren’t going to get on board. I really think the ship’s sort of sailed at this point.”

“That’s why we have to fight for it.” Enjolras snapped. “If people just gave up when things didn’t got their way then there’d been many important movements that would never have seen the light of day and-” 

“Have you been watching those ‘underdog’ movies with Jehan again?” The cynic leaned back in his chair. “Hollywood loves the idea of small groups of kids overcoming huge obstacles but I think we all know it’s harder than that in real life.”

“Not with effort.” Enjolras was practically on his feet. “As long as someone is willing to start the fire and be a figurehead there will be interest. In the end people will always-” 

He was cut off by the unexpected sound of Grantaire slamming his head onto the table and laughing loudly. The blond stood there frozen and tried to wrap his head around what he was seeing. Grantaire was giggling into his hands as Combeferre shook his head slowly. “Are you two seriously doing this after six months of not seeing each other?”

This made Enjolras blush and Grantaire cackle even harder. The activist cleared his throat and looked away. “He started it.”

“So now we’re in preschool?” 

“Shut it.” Enjolras looked away before the other man could see the twitch of a smile on his face. Grantaire didn’t seem interested in continuing the conversation anyway and leaned forward to grin at Bahorel.

“So been keeping out of trouble?” 

“Hardly.” The bigger man laughed. “Dude, even if ya aren’t drinking anymore, we gotta hit the club scene. It’s not as much fun without you.”

“So in.” Grantaire grinned and knuckle bumped him before looking at Joly. “Classes coming along?”

“Pretty well.” The redhead shrugged. “I missed a couple of classes last week ‘cause I thought I might have had--”

“Bronchitis.” Bossuet laughed. “The idiot thought he had bronchitis. Musichetta and I practically had to tie him to the bed to keep him from running to the hospital.”

Everyone laughed at Joly’s blush and Grantaire turned to look at Feuilly and Marius. “Hey, I wanted to ask, the police contacted you about the break-in?” 

“Not yet.” Feuilly admitted. “We’re not holding out much hope. There’s been a lot of these break-ins going around.”

“Damn, that sucks.”

Enjolras watched as Grantaire turned his attention to Courfeyrac and began asking about his girlfriend. The cynic had been gone for months and yet he seemed to know more about their friends’ day-to-day lives than the activist. Enjolras tried not to stare at Grantaire too obviously but Combeferre was smiling at him a little too smugly so he was probably failing miserably at that. He finally managed to growl at his best friend. “What?”

“He’s fine.” Pushing his glasses into place and still smiling, the man nodded to where Grantaire and Jehan were laughing. “Just like we said. He’s better than fine. So enough with feeling guilty.” 

“…’The hell are you talking about?”

Combeferre didn’t say any more but still smiled to himself.

* * *

Cosette lifted her head from Grantaire’s stomach and peered up at his face. “Hey.”

He looked down at her; she was sprawled out, her head on him and her legs on her boyfriend’s lap. Jehan was curled against his shoulder and Courfeyrac was sprawled over all of their legs. Amidst the pillows and blankets that they’d purloined from pretty much every room in the house the five friends had spent the evening eating pizza, watching movies and cackling over jokes that would have made little sense to anyone else. Grantaire sighed and ruffled Cosette’s hair. “What.”

She grinned. “Told you so.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes you did, Princess. Now go to sleep.”

Courfeyrac hauled himself up slightly to peer at them. “Were you seriously trying to get out of coming back?”

“Not really, just wasn’t looking forward to incurring the wrath of the almighty Enjolras.” The cynic laughed, running his fingers through Jehan’s hair. Courfeyrac snorted and flopped back.

“If you were trying to avoid his ‘wrath’ then wasn’t your little outburst back then a bit counter-productive?”

Grantaire’s smile became a little smug. “I couldn’t resist. I saw him and it was this automatic reaction. I couldn’t help myself…” 

“Well it was great for us.” Marius admitted, rubbing his girlfriend’s calf soothingly. “We didn’t want to say anything, but he’s been a real pain lately. At least when he lets you have it, you can fight back. He rips the rest of us to shreds.”

Grantaire looked up at that his brow furrowed a little in confusion. Before he could speak the door of the study opened and Jean stepped through, looking at the pile of Amis with a cocked eyebrow. “This looks cozy.” 

“Hey Mr. Valjean.” Courfeyrac twisted around so he could look up at the older man. “I’m Courfeyrac, don’t believe we’ve met.”

Jean’s eyes roved over each person before settling on the brunet with a small smile. “I believe you’re right, pleased to meet you. There’s a large futon in the game room if you’d like to pile in there. I believe Cosette and Jehan have already abandoned you for the dreamscape.”

They looked down at the two slumbering figures, trying to calculate how to disentangle from the cuddle-pile without waking them. They managed to huddle Cosette into her father’s arms and Grantaire effortlessly began cradling Jehan like a baby. Carrying the poet was easy; getting him to let go so they could put him down was the tricky part. He left Courfeyrac and Marius trying to avoid becoming a teddy bear and stumbled toward his own room. He nearly ran into Jean as the man exited his daughter’s room and mumbled an apology but the man reached down and pulled him into a hug.

“How’d it go?” He smiled as the young man melted into the contact and gave a long-suffering sigh. “That well?”

Grantaire smiled into his shoulder and shrugged. “Actually it went a lot better than I was expecting.”

“They took you back without question?”

“Yeah.”

“They were happy to hear the news? They were proud of you?" 

“…Yeah.”

“We TOLD you.”

Grantaire groaned and pulled away, throwing his hands up. “You two are impossible!”

Jean kissed him on the forehead and left the young man on his own. As Grantaire flopped onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He smiled to himself, a soft laugh escaping as he put an arm over his eyes. “They told me…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote is Vincent Van Gogh.
> 
> Sorry about the wait, but they're all finally back together!


	5. Chapter Four

The police squad room was bustling with activity; officers making their way to and from crime scenes and doing mountains of paperwork. Detective Javert made his way across the room swiftly, his coworkers giving him a wide birth. Their aversion to him had never really bothered the dedicated lawman; as long as they respected him, why should he care if there was a healthy measure of fear mixed in? This way he was left to go about his job as efficiently as possible.

In theory anyway…

Javert sighed and slapped his case file, hard, across the head of his partner. Frasier jerked up in his desk and blinked owlishly. "Howsit-who?! Oh, hey. How long was I out?"

Of all of the detectives for him to be stuck with upon his transfer, Ramin Frasier was the last man Javert would have asked for. Not that the still rather young man wasn't good at what he did, but his laidback attitude was often more of a hindrance than a help. At that moment, it was all he could do to not strike his partner again, harder this time.

"About an hour, I'd imagine. You were asleep when I left." The older detective dropped into his own seat and rubbed a hand over his face. "Not that much has happened since you drifted off so you're off the hook."

Frasier sighed and stood. "I'll… I don't know. I'll go have a look over at the scenes, who knows, maybe something will come to me."

Waving him off, Javert leaned over his own papers.

Making his way down the street, Frasier sighed and drank from his large coffee cup. The man then glared at the now empty container and grumbled under his breath; he had checked over three scenes, spoken to multiple people and walked over five miles over the course of the afternoon. And now that large coffee was sitting uncomfortably on his bladder, dammit.

After ducking into a grocery store and a quick trip to the restroom he was strolling through an aisle, considering grabbing some of his partner's favorite crackers, when he noticed a small group of young people and recognized one of them; it was one of the boys from the apartment burglary, and Frasier thought he recognized the girl too. The darker haired boy wasn't familiar but the detective watched with amusement as he and the girl fought over a box of sugary cereal. The girl won, putting the box back on the shelf as the dark haired boy scowled. The other guy just laughed and leaned against their cart. Their voices carried over the quiet bustle of the store.

"No, R! We are not getting more sugar. You'll have enough of that at the party tonight, we don't need it first thing in the morning."

"We got healthy snacks for tonight! Come on, throw me a bone."

Frasier hesitated and then walked over. "Excuse me."

The lighter haired boy recognized him immediately. "Detective, hello. Any new leads?"

"Unfortunately not." Frasier searched his head for the kid's name. "I assure you we'll let you know if we find anything out, Mr. Pontimercy." He smiled at the blonde and other boy, who looked slightly familiar close up. "I take it you and your roommate took the necessary precautions so it won't be easy for them to show up again?"

"Yeah." Marius nodded, and then he turned. "This is my girlfriend, Cosette and my friend Grantaire."

"Nice to meet you." The man smiled slightly. "I'm glad it was easy to get a new lock."

Marius frowned at that. "It was mostly a precautionary measure. We think they might have gotten ahold of a key."

Frasier's gaze sharpened at that. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, there wasn't really any damage to the lock. I guess they might have picked it but it's an old building and I think there's multiple keys for each apartment." The boy shrugged nervously. "I just assumed…"

"…Thanks for telling me, I hadn't thought about that." The detective nodded politely at both of them and made his excuses. As he walked away he pulled out his phone and punched in a number. "Javert? Hey, on the apartment robbery… Yeah, listen, was the lock damaged?" He paused to hold the door for a woman leaving the store as his partner checked over their notes. "That's what I thought. It's a discrepancy; all the other hits had some sort of damage to the entrance the thieves used. I have a theory, what do we know about the landlord?"

* * *

Eponine checked the address on her phone again and shook her head as she knocked on the door. She didn't normally join in on the 'hang outs' that Marius' friends participated in; but Courfeyrac's nagging had finally worn her down and she found herself standing in front of the young man's apartment. The door opened to the sight of Jehan grinning at her and she managed a smile back. Eponine wasn't sure what to think of the quirky poet, he wasn't the normal type of guy she hung with and she was reminded of this fact by the small braids that dotted his long hair.

"Hey, come on in." He stepped back and waved at the living room. "We're just waiting for a couple more people."

It took her a moment to figure out what was going on as Jehan plopped back down in between Musichetta and Cosette, filling in the gap of what she finally figured out was a braiding line. 'Chetta was at the end, going back to braiding bits of Jehan's hair and humming as she slipped colorful beads into her creations. The boy was braiding Cosette's long silky curls and chatting away happily as she, in turn, braided Bahorel's hair; which, while not long enough to reach his shoulders, was long enough to house short little braids that stuck out at odd angles. The big man didn't seem to mind as he typed away at an app on his phone.

Giving them an odd look, Eponine joined Marius on a love seat, the young man smiling at her confusion. "They do this sometimes. Keeps their hands busy, right?"

"We can do yours too." Musichetta offered with a smile. "Your hair's really awesome and it wouldn't be hard to put some beads or feathers into it."

Fighting back her discomfort, the other girl shook her head, trying not to self-consciously play with the dreadlocks; unused to the weight. She looked around and noticed several other Amis had purloined the entirety of the lumpy couch in the corner; Bossuet was seated in the middle, with Joly and a guy she didn't recognize sitting sideways across him. Their feet were pressed together and they were playfully wrestling as the three chatted happily. The stranger caught her eye and grinned. "Hey 'Ponine, how's it hangin'?"

She nearly fell off the seat. "R?!"

Her former neighbor looked… Well, Grantaire would never be a particularly handsome man, but compared to the last time she'd seen him he looked fantastic. His skin was devoid of the blotches and flush that accompanied his drinking and had a healthy glow that suggested lengthy time outdoors. The eyes that used to be puffy and red were clear, if not a little shadowed by what were no doubt late nights spent bent over a canvas. She was glad to see he looked well all things considered…

_Eponine looked up from her hand-held game as a man walked confidently into the lobby of their apartment building and frowned; when she saw new faces near her home she tended to be cautious. He spotted her and strode over, looking grim. "I'm sorry miss, which room is M. Grantaire's?"_

" _Second floor, room on the left." She said slowly, looking him over. He was well dressed and healthy, not the usual company she saw around the drunk's place. "He's not here though."_

" _I'm aware. He's at my home and he'll be staying there for the foreseeable future." The man's face softened slightly and he managed a smile as he held up a key. "I'm here for his things."_

" _Alright, I'll help." She offered, leading the way to the stairs; the elevator being a dangerous bet any day._

_As they neared the door Marius hurried over, looking surprised. "Jean, what are you doing here?"_

" _I could ask the same." The man replied, an eyebrow raised as the young man shifted under the hard gaze._

" _I, err, live here."_

" _Really." Now both eyebrows were up and the young man shrugged._

" _It's cheap rent. Wait, are you here to see R?"_

_Marius sounded as skeptical as Eponine felt but the man sighed and nodded the affirmative. "It's not my place to explain, but he'll be living with Cosette and I for a while."_

_And that was the exact moment Eponine realized who she was speaking to. Feeling uncomfortable, she started to back off as the young man stepped forward._

" _He's okay though?" Marius asked, looking nervously up at Valjean. The man smiled._

" _He'll be alright, he's been evicted." Valjean watched Marius' eyes widen. "You didn't know."_

"… _No. He doesn't talk to me about stuff like that." He sighed. "I don't think he talks to anyone about stuff like that."_

" _Dad kicked him out earlier." Eponine explained apologetically. "He wasn't getting the rent in."_

_Marius shook his head. "Great…"_

_Valjean pulled out the key from his pocket and unlocked the apartment, "Will you help me move this all to the car?"_

" _Of course." He looked over his shoulder. "Hey, 'Ponine, can you…"_

" _I'll get some boxes." She promised, dashing down the hallway._

_The drunk's rooms were very simple, barely decorated at all and full of furniture that Eponine explained belonged with the room. It took roughly twenty minutes to gather together the books and art supplies that were scattered around the living room. As Valjean and Eponine boxed the last of them, Marius came out of the bedroom with a box full of clothes and other belongings, frowning. "I have never met anyone with so few clothes and so many of them flannel shirts."_

_Eponine giggled as Valjean looked around the room, "This can't be everything?"_

" _Hang on, I think he hides some cds under the couch." Eponine fished out the container of discs and handed them over to be packed. "I've been in the kitchen, it's a war zone and there's nothing worth salvaging in there. If I find anything tomorrow while I'm cleaning I'll let Marius know."_

_Valjean smiled kindly at the young woman. "Thank you my dear. Come on Marius, let's get these into the car."_

" _Hey!" As the man paused in the doorway, Eponine crossed her arms self-consciously. "He's okay, right?"_

_Heaving a sigh, Valjean smiled kindly. "He will be. He just needs rest. I'm sure you'll see him again soon."_

_Eponine watched them go before turning around and looking over the empty apartment. She regretted that he had to go; there were so few decent people in the neighborhood to begin with._

Grantaire grinned widely at the girl. "Hey, how are your parents?"

"Jerks as always." Eponine shrugged. "You seem to be doing well."

The artist laughed as the door opened and Enjolras and Combeferre walked in, the blond sighing. "Sorry we're late." He glared over his shoulder. "Someone wouldn't just pick a snack and leave."

Combeferre grinned and shook a bag of chips playfully. "Movie's are directly impacted by the quality of the snacks eaten during the viewing."

"That makes no sense."

"Sounds impressive though."

Bahorel cackled as he pulled away from the line and clapped Enjolras on the back. "You're here, so no harm done." The activist looked scathingly at the taller man's hair and he grinned wider. "They can do yours…"

"NO." Enjolras broke away and went to sit next to Feuilly on the floor, resolutely looking at the TV. "What are we watching?"

"Good question." Courfeyrac hurried from the kitchen, holding a bowl of popcorn and pack of beer in each hand and a few sodas tucked under his arms. "Suggestions?"

"Inception?"

The brunet glared at Bossuet. "I am not allowing us to get into that 'dream or not-dream' debate again. Not on your life. Any other suggestions?" He handed out the beers and sodas.

"Dark Knight Rises?" Joly asked as Feuilly snorted.

"You really want to open up the debate on whether a citizen based structure can work? That lasted three days last time."

Joly sighed and shrugged as Marius offered. "Okay, how about the newer Hobbit movie?"

Jehan blushed as Bahorel laughed loudly, "Yeah, let's sit through Jehan's 'it's not true to the original text' rant for over two hours. Sounds like fun."

Eponine was looking around the room in disbelief. "How can it possibly be this hard to pick a movie?"

Combeferre was smiling from his place on the floor near her feet. "Have you met these people? They're impossible; 'Jol and 'Taire can keep an argument about these movies going for weeks; although I'm not sure they know what they're arguing about after a while."

Both boys had the decency to blush slightly. The girl tried to help. "How about that newer Disney movie? I hear it was really-"

"NO MUSICALS!"

Completely understanding the shocked look on Eponine's face after the mass protest, Cosette intervened. "The Princess Bride?"

There was a unanimous mummer of agreement and the DVD was popped into the player. Enjolras was sipping from his water bottle, forgoing the beer and sugary drinks, as the trailers played and was starting to space out when a rustle at his side made him look over to see Grantaire stretching out next to him. The blond looked over his shoulder and saw that the artist had given up his seat so Musichetta could sit with her roommates on the couch. Grantaire's eyes were glued to the screen as he tapped an absent-minded rhythm on his soda can, but a sly smile was hovering on his lips and with a jolt Enjolras found himself flashing back to when he'd first heard of this particular film.

They'd been a group for a year and were still getting used to the dynamics of having so many different minds involved when he'd gotten into one of his slowly more frequent fights with Grantaire. It had become heated and eventually the cynic fell into a circular argument, saying the same type of thing over and over again to irritate the other man. When the activist had accused him of being drunk, he'd replied he wasn't. "There's all drunk, and there's mostly drunk. There's a big difference between mostly drunk and all drunk. Mostly drunk is slightly sober. With all drunk, well, with all drunk there's usually only one thing you can do; search their pockets for loose change." Finally Enjolras had asked what Grantaire was exactly trying to get across and without missing a beat, the drunk had replied "Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line!" The references had gone over the blond's head and in order to get Grantaire to stop yelling, he and Combeferre had agreed to rent it. He would never admit it, but it had become one of his favorite movies and he inwardly laughed every time someone quoted from it.

The artist leaned over and muttered, "You keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means."

Enjolras smiled.

Combeferre could get into his leader's head in a way others could only dream of. Both boys were only children, and it had been easy when they met as teens to transfer the affection reserved for siblings to one another. Although they were very different in temperament they'd never had a fight, never crossed blows and were nearly always in sync. Combeferre was the one person Enjolras felt he could be completely honest with, although Courfeyrac was a close second, and as such, the man had born the brunt of the activist's ire over the last couple months.

So it was with not undue relief that he watched Enjolras smile and silently laugh at something that Grantaire said. There was an easy intimacy in the way both boys lay side-by-side, watching the movie and muttering good-naturedly to each other. Having been prepared to deal with a world war three, it was a blessing that they both seemed to be willing to try again.

Well, until their next fight.

* * *

"I've run into the man before."

Frasier sat across from his partner as Javert tapped a file. "I think he's been involved in several drug and theft rings before and I can't believe I didn't recognize his name. But if this does have to do with him, would he really be stupid enough to rob someone in his own building?"

"Up until now I would have thought these guys would be smarter than that." Frasier muttered. "But maybe they're getting careless; I mean, they've been one step ahead of us for so long. Maybe they think they're untouchable. Should we pay this… Thénardier a visit?"

Shaking his head, Javert stood. "The last thing we want is for him to catch on that we suspect him. Let's be careful."

"Right." The younger man looked at where his cell rested on top of a pile of files and Javert felt the need to address his partner's increasing restlessness.

"Ramin, is something wrong with you and Christine?"

Frasier blew out a breath. "Not really, she's just been feeling a little under the weather lately. She went into the clinic today."

"I'm sure she's fine." Javert may not have ever been in a relationship of his own but he knew that Frasier and his fiancée were a perfect match. Not to mention that she was one of the few people that could reign in the young man when he was being a nuisance. Once upon a time, he'd have found it strange to have someone like Christine on speed dial, much less have her coming around to bring them meals and chat, but if there was one major change the move had made, it was the amount of human interaction he was starting to have.

* * *

"'Ponine!" Grantaire jogged down the street. "Walk you home?"

The girl hesitated, then shrugged. "Why not. Promise to keep me safe from ruffians?"

He smiled at her teasing tone. "I think you're more likely to keep me safe." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "How's Gav'?"

"Doin' alright." She flipped her hair and smiled as they paused at a crosswalk. "He hates his new school but he doesn't skip as much as he used to and actually does homework every once in a while."

Grantaire snorted. "Good kid. So how long have you been a part of Mr. Righteous Fury's little army?"

"Oh come on." She giggled. "He's a little a cranky and wa-ay to 'holier than thou' but he's not all bad. He's hot for one thing."

Then man laughed at that. "Got me there, but the funny thing? He has no clue; watch someone hit on him if you get the chance. He is completely oblivious."

"Sounds like fun." She agreed. As they walked down the quiet street, Eponine picked at the sleeves of her coat, looking down at her feet. "So. You're sober."

"Mm." Grantaire smiled. "Thanks to Jean and Cosette. And Marius I suppose, though he wasn't a help so much as… You know when he gets flustered and acts like a toddler?"

The girl cackled. "Oh yeah, I know what you're talking about." Her phone went off; she pulled it out and grimaced at the text. "Oh great, my dad's got his friends over. Gonna be a long night."

The young man snatched her phone, punching in his number. "Text me if you need a distraction or backup. It's really good to see you again; we'll have to meet up. You should be out doing stuff, you're too cute to be holed up at home." That made her flush a little; Grantaire had a habit of sounding very sincere sometimes and it could be a little intimidating.

"As long as it's not at the princess' house." Eponine muttered to save face because honestly, it wasn't like it was the first time a guy had complimented her.

Grantaire knew about Eponine's crush. Had for a long time. Since she hadn't met the rest of the Amis until Marius was already dating Cosette, he doubted any of them did and he knew for a fact that the boy himself was completely oblivious; Eponine was a great girl, and Grantaire regretted thoroughly that Marius hadn't seen that. Although he was very, very happy that Marius and Cosette had met; they were a perfect couple, which was something the cynic had thought impossible before. He loved Cosette but Eponine deserved better and this was why he didn't get involved with relationships in the first place!

Eponine looked sideways at the man walking beside her, smiling at his absent-minded expression. They weren't very close, but Grantaire was good for a drink or sympathetic look and always managed to take her mind off of things. She shrugged.

"So… Maybe we could go out for dinner next week?"

He smiled widely. "Yeah, perfect. Except not Wednesday. I have… a… thing."

She gave him a knowing look. "An… AA thing?"

"…Yeah." His smile turned sheepish. "I guess, considering my background, it's stupid to be embarrassed by something like that." As they approached her building, he bumper her shoulder. "Tuesday? I'll get you at seven?"

"Sounds good." She clomped up the steps. "See ya' R."

He turned and began the trek home when his phone buzzed and he opened a photo text. It was from Courfeyrac, apparently some of the guys decided to bunk there over night; the photo was of Enjolras and Jehan passed out on the couch, the younger man sprawled on the blond's chest, arms slung around each other. He smothered a laugh as another text popped up; this one from Eponine:

.: _See you on tues. Try not to get in trouble_

_-Ponie_ :.

He grinned, tossing the phone in the air as he strolled off. Life was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was just a bit more world-setting and the next chapter will be mostly filler before we get to the more exciting stuff.


	6. Chapter Five

Eponine Thénardier woke up and yawned until her jaw clicked. She pulled on jeans and a tank top as the sounds of her mother and father screaming at each other drifted through the thin walls of her room and took a deep breath to prepare to face the day. The grating screeches continued as she slunk into the kitchen to grab something to eat; nodding at where her little brother was seated at the table munching on cereal and listening to their parents' argument with a slightly irritated look. Eponine reached over to ruffle the ten year-old's hair. "How long have they been at it?"

"About an hour. I think dad screwed something up again. Mom's really pissed." Gavroche twisted around to look at her. "Can you take me to the park?"

"Yeah, I think so. Your homework done?"

"Yes." The boy huffed. "Courfeyrac said he wouldn't take me to the concert next week if I didn't get a good mark in my math class."

That got a grin out of her. As she began to pour herself some coffee her phone went off and she looked down to see a text.

_.:I know our dinner date's not till tues,_

_but do you want to get breakfast b/c_

_I am BORED_

_-R:._

Laughing, Eponine juggled her phone and mug, sitting next to her brother.

_.:The unemployed life not doing it for_

_ya?_

_-Ponie:._

_.:Silence woman. Can I get an answer?_

' _cuz I am literally right outside your_

_building looking like a stalker._

_-R:._

She choked on her coffee, getting a weird look from her little brother. Leaping up she apologized. "Going out for a while. I'll take you this afternoon, okay?"

"Alright, I'm gonna hang out at Matt's today."

She grabbed a sweat jacket and her wallet and dashed out the door, thundering down the stairs to the sidewalk to see Grantaire sprawled out on the grass. He grinned up at her. "Hey."

"Hey." She flopped down next to him and cocked an eyebrow. "Wasn't aware we were dressing up."

He looked down at his button up and black jeans and shrugged. "We're not. I was at church."

"So why're you skipping instead?" She asked curiously as they stood, the young man dusting off his clothes.

"Needed air. Thought I'd take a walk and then take a pretty girl out for food." He tried to brush off the real reason; that his mind had been too cluttered for him to function in a packed room. That was always the feeling that made him most want to grab a drink so he had occupied himself by getting out.

"Flatterer. So I'm thinking hot chocolate."

He looked over at his friend and smiled.

* * *

Enjolras walked down the street at a quick pace, checking his email on his phone and grumbled under his breath. He pushed open the door of his favorite little café and shoved his phone in his pocket before stopping in surprise. Grantaire and the new girl, Eponine, were seated in a booth, laughing at something and halfway through a meal. He thought about it for a moment before walking over; once they noticed he was there they'd say hello so he might as well nip it in the bud. He was just in time to catch part of their conversation.

"Courfeyrac?" Grantaire laughed. "Really? That's great, moron needs a way to keep himself occupied."

She giggled. "Don't make fun, Gav needs a role-model and he could do a hell of a lot worse."

"I hear that." Grantaire looked up and smiled. "Well hello there fearless leader. What brings you here on this lovely morning?"

"Was out to get some breakfast." He nodded at the girl. She smiled at him.

"Join us?"

He hesitated, glancing at the other man who scooted over a bit. He sat down and waved down a waitress as the cynic and girl exchanged a glance and began snickering.

"I won't ask. So… Eponine, glad to see you at meetings lately."

She grinned. "Well, it beats hanging out at home after work. Even if I can't follow half of what you guys are talking about."

Enjolras glared at Grantaire as the older man opened his mouth. "Don't you dare."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Yeah, and let's keep it that way."

The brunet grinned as the waitress came over to take the younger man's order and refresh their coffees. This was a rare occurrence; usually his only contact with the activist outside of meetings was when there was a group event or hang out. This was practically one on one. He leaned back and sipped his drink curiously as Enjolras shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"So what are you two doing?"

"Staving off boredom." Eponine said around a mouthful of pancakes. "R offered to feed me so I came out of weekend hibernation."

The cynic laughed quietly and Enjolras gave him his attention. "I've never seen you dressed like that before."

Grantaire peered down at his button-up and picked at the collar. "Not really my thing; Cosette bought it for me. Said it was for when I need to look presentable and not like a homeless lumberjack."

Eponine nodded, mockingly serious. "You do own a lot of plaid."

"So, what? That a crime?"

"It should be…" Enjolras muttered into his cup as the cynic dissolved into laughter. The blond was pleased to find that his laugh wasn't as annoying when it wasn't mocking. In fact… Grantaire was proving not so bad company.

"Hey, where's Combeferre?"

Enjolras blinked at that, frowning slightly. "We're not attached at the hip, you know."

"Yes you are." The cynic laughed. "You're the dynamic duo. So where is he?"

"Asleep I think."

"Ah." Grantaire nodded slowly. "Okay, but why didn't anyone else come with you?"

Enjolras frowned again, watching Eponine drown her pancakes in syrup. "I just went alone. Problem?"

"Just seems to me that you've been doing that a lot." Grantaire shrugged, "You're trying to do too much by yourself, you know that?"

The blonde glared, "Oh really?"

"So what're you up to this fine morning?" Eponine quickly jumped in, trying to stop anything before it started.

Enjolras sighed at the question and rubbed at his eyes. "I was trying to get a meeting with the mayor. Didn't go well."

"Maybe because you were trying so early in the morning." Eponine offered, getting a glare for her trouble. "Anyway, maybe you're going about this the wrong way. Make some noise, start an uproar."

The activist raised an eyebrow. "A rally?"

"Yeah…" Grantaire snorted. "No way for that to fail…"

* * *

"Oh hell no…"

Joly leaned over the table. "That's… Such a bad idea on so many levels."

"No, it could work." Enjolras was practically glowing; he'd spent all of Sunday and Monday thinking it over and now the idea of a rally was energizing him past his earlier failures. "We get permission to set up on campus. Have people talk about the cause, do free t-shirts or food or something and get people interested. And it'll be impossible for people to ignore, we might even get the media's attention."

"Grantaire, you're good at shooting things down, tell him this is a bad idea."

The cynic looked up from where he and Bossuet were playing Mario Kart. "I did. Multiple times. He's not listening today, 'Ponine got him all worked up."

Bossuet swore as he crashed and manhandled the controller. "Thank your girlfriend for that by the way."

"You thank her. Then she can kick your ass instead."

With an outraged yell, the larger man tackled Grantaire onto the couch and both men began to wrestle, yelling loudly and playfully shoving each other around. Joly rolled his eyes and turned away from his best friends. "Bring it up with the group and see what everyone else thinks. Don't do anything too abruptly, okay?"

Enjolras agreed reluctantly. As he began to stand up he gave the two roughhousing men a look. Bossuet waved cheerfully from where he was seated on Grantaire's back as the smaller man struggled futilely. "Dammit, get off!"

"I think not, sir." Bossuet grinned and ruffled his hair.

"Knave! Ruffian! Unhand me before I box your ears off!"

"Nah."

"I warned you. Have at thee, then!"

The larger man yelped as he was thrown forward under Grantaire's bucking. They started up again as Enjolras rolled his eyes and left. Joly watched with amusement for a few minutes before Musichetta came into the room and raised an eyebrow. "R, don't you have a date tonight?"

"Oh, crap!" The cynic leapt up and grabbed for his coat. "Damn, thanks."

"Go get her tiger." Joly called out wryly as his girlfriend slapped his arm playfully.

"R, wait. You mentioned you were having trouble finding work lately?"

He blinked as he shrugged the jacket on. "Um, yeah. I've been doing manual labor and crap but no one seems to want to hire recently."

Musichetta smiled as she handed him a small stack of papers. "Well, we need a new janitor-slash-bouncer and we'd prefer to hire someone we know and trust so…"

Dumbstruck, Grantaire stared down at the application. "Seriously?"

"It's not much of a job and the pay's not the best but…"

He threw himself forward, hugging the woman tightly. "You are an angel! I'll fill these out right away. This sounds perfect!"

Musichetta laughed and hugged her friend back.

Five minutes later, Eponine was watching him with a grin as he ran up the steps to her building. "Late."

"I know, I know. So very sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, got wrapped up in a thing with Joly and Bossuet earlier… Ready?"

"Only since I got up this morning." She teased, slipping an arm through his as they walked down the street.

He grinned down at her. "Well, glad to hear you're excited about our first date."

"Technically I think this would be our second." Holding up two fingers, Eponine glanced at him with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Breakfast on Sunday would have been our first."

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, but didn't Enjolras crash that one?"

"I suppose he did, didn't he? So this is our first date."

"Although, it takes a lot of the pressure off if we call this our second date."

"Oh, good point. Well, in either case, I'm starving." She began to drag him along. "I want tacos, let's get tacos."

Grantaire laughed. "Tacos it is."

* * *

"The point is-"

Eponine had been trying to make her point for about five minutes but always seemed to get interrupted, this time by Grantaire's straw's wrapper as it bounced off her nose. She swatted it away, glaring at the grinning man still holding the straw in his mouth, and began again. "The point is, that I've known you for a couple years now, in at least an acquaintance sort of way, and I'm only now finding out that you can dance! I mean seriously? Not grinding or twerking, actual professional dancing?"

"Tiny bit of ballet when I was young, a bit of ballroom and salsa and a whole lot of more modern dance." He grinned into his drink. "And I've been told my breakdancing skills aren't bad."

"See, that's so cool! So why don't you share this information with people?"

Grantaire shrugged and began to poke at his beans. "I guess it doesn't really come up in conversation much."

"I find it hard to believe that it's never come up." Mouth full of rice and taco, Eponine had to work to get her words out. "I think you're just modest."

That had the man choking on his drink. "Are you serious? I know a lot of people who would disagree with you."

The girl stuck out her tongue. "Well then they suck."

"Eloquently put." Grantaire leaned back in his chair. "It's not like I let people think I'm stupid. The guys have seen me paint plenty of times and I know I'm good at that. I'm not denying that I have talents, but why shove them down people's throats?"

The girl sighed and smiled kindly at him. "Because they're your friends and they love you. It's not bragging okay? But now that I know, you have to take me dancing."

"Oh really?" Grantaire grinned widely. "Alright, I think that can be arranged."

"Good, but you'll also have to teach me how to dance."

They both laughed at that and were still giggling as the bill was brought over. The young man snatched it up and began to write out a check. "Do you want to see a movie? Because I want to see a movie."

"R…"

"Hey." He pointed the pen at her and glared. "I don't pay rent or for groceries and just got a job offer today. Let me take you to a movie."

"A job offer?" She said in surprise.

Handing over the bill to the waiter, Grantaire nodded. "Yeah, 'Chetta wants to hire me to do stuff at the café. Not glamorous but hey, money's money."

As they stood, Eponine linked arms again and squeezed him close. "So, what do you want to do with your life? Like, what were you thinking when you were taking classes?"

"Honestly, I was pissed so much of the time, I don't think I had much of a plan."

Wincing from her slap to the arm, he shrugged. "I dunno, I'm pretty good at art."

Eponine smiled and hugged him again. "Draw me?"

"Yeah," He laughed. "Sure."

"I'm serious!" She pouted.

He impulsively kissed her on the forehead. "So was I. Come on, theater's down the block."

* * *

Fraiser and Javert stared at one another over the desks, the lights dim in the mostly empty squad room. They had spent a long day finding evidence (there was little), putting together pieces of their theory (badly fitting pieces), and gathering witnesses and insiders (who didn't want to cooperate, even after the 'Javert Stare' in full effect). The elder detective was hesitant to give into the theory but Frasier was becoming more and more certain the further they dug. He ran his hands through his already messy hair and took a deep breath. "He has priors. He's living rather above his means and has gang contacts. His only alibi for most of the robberies is his wife and he owns the building where one of the robberies took place. We're on to something here!"

"Alright, but at this rate we're going to need to catch them in the act." Javert sighed. "It's not much to go on."

"It's enough." The younger man's voice was firm. "I don't know about you, but I want to talk to M. Thenardier."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little short, but at least it's done. I'd love some constructive criticism or to know what you all are liking about it. Please leave some feedback and hope you're enjoying thus far.


	7. Chapter Six

Grantaire looked up from his newspaper and cocked an eyebrow. “Why do you want to know?” 

Valjean continued washing the dishes while he listened to the young people and smiled to himself at the lively tone. Breakfast was one of his favorite parts of the day; Cosette wasn’t off at school yet and Grantaire’s caffeine levels hadn’t yet risen to the point where he was bouncing off the walls, so they talked and relaxed. It was like listening to a couple of siblings and made him feel a strange sort of contentment; Grantaire made Cosette louder, livelier and more confident. Cosette made Grantaire happy. They were good for one another.

The girl in question was packing away her notebooks as she talked. “I’m just curious. What, I’m not allowed to ask?” 

“Hmm…” Grantaire leaned back in his chair and tapped his chin. “Okay… I’d say that just going off of appearance… Captain America?”

 “Really?” Cosette sounded skeptical. “I mean, yeah, Chris Evans is adorable. But he seems too uptight for you.”

“Look, you asked which Avenger was hottest and I was ‘not allowed to say Widow because that’s too obvious’ and I gave ya an answer.” He stretched his arms behind his head and smirked. “Just because I have hidden depths-”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Silence, woman. Anyway, from an artistic standpoint he’s hella awesome because the whole ‘Dorito ratio’ thing is very, very pleasing. I am an artist, I notice this crap.” He gave her a look. “Who do you say?”

“Thor.”

“Oh, wow, didn’t see that coming.”

Valjean poured himself a cup of coffee. “You’re going to be late.”

Grabbing a last slice of toast and slinging on her backpack, Cosette pecked them both on the cheek and rushed out the door. “I’m picking up Marius today. We’re going out for coffee after class to study so it’ll be a while until I’m home. Bye!”

Both men waved and Valjean turned to Grantaire. “…Which one’s Thor?”

“The giant, blond haired guy. Ironically Marius’ complete opposite.”

Chuckling, the older man settled down. “Given any thought about Pastor’s suggestion?”

“Aren’t I the last person you want in front of a crowd?” Grantaire took a large gulp of coffee and winced at the burn. “There’s gotta be other people who play guitar that can step in. I don’t even have an instrument.”

“Well, give it some thought.” Valjean steepled his fingers and looked at the other man hard. “I thought you’d have time since you don’t go to those meetings anymore.”

“Before you say anything,” Grantaire pushed away from the table. “I still see them almost every other day. Just because I don’t do the meetings any more doesn’t mean I’m hiding or avoiding them.”

“Aren’t you?” 

Grantaire took a deep breath. “No. I used to go because I thought I had to if I wanted to be a part of their circle and I was wrong. We hang out, watch movies, go out for lunch, and just hang out and honestly, everything’s great. But if I go back, we’ll fight and things’ll get messy.” He shook his head. “I cannot risk falling back into old patterns and this feels like a trigger…” He grinned. “Besides, now I bet they get a lot more done.”

“No doubt.” Valjean smiled. “I just think it’s a good idea for you to broaden your circles, get to know more people your age.”

“Mmm.” Tapping out a rhythm on the table, the young man shrugged. “I suppose, although my new job ought to help with that.”

“When do you start?”

“Soon.” Grantaire stood and stretched again. “Which means I ought to get some painting done while I have time.”

Valjean sighed and stood up stiffly. “I suppose I ought to get to work as well.”

* * *

Marius and Eponine were hanging out in the lobby entryway, the boy fiddling with his backpack as they laughed. The girl caught her breath enough to continue, “So apparently, Courfeyrac went on for five minutes before he realized that Enjolras was standing behind him. Gav’ said that he was even making fun of his clipboard and doing these stupid little hand motions and the voice and everything.” She puffed out her chest and put on a deeper voice. “Revolution! Reform! Death to something or other and blah-blah-blah!” She giggled, dropping the act. “ Fearless leader ripped him a new one.”

The boy chuckled. “That’s fantastic.”

“Yeah…” Eponine looked at the ground, scuffing her boot on the cement. “Gav’ goes over to his place a lot. To get away from the yelling.”

Marius winced. “That bad?”

“Sometimes I think mom’s gonna snap and kill him. Dad’s been drinking a lot too so… Things are hard, y’know? But it is what it is.”

Desperate to get the smile back on his friend’s face, Marius asked, “So, how was hanging with R?”

“It was fun.” She shrugged but looked a little happier. “He’s going to come with me to get some new clothes this weekend.”

“Awesome.” Marius grinned. “A guy willing to take you to the mall, he’s a keeper.”

She laughed again at that. “Totally.”

There was a honk from the street and they turned to see Cosette parked in her cherry red convertible. She waved at her boyfriend as he hugged his neighbor quickly. “Class starts soon; gotta run. See you later?”

“Sure.” She smiled tightly. “Good luck. You know, in class.”

“Thanks ‘Ponine!”

She sighed and turned back to head into the apartment. Maybe she could scrounge up enough money to take Gavroche to dinner; then they both could escape their parents’ wrath. As a crash reverberated around the apartment Eponine decided she’d beg for scraps at the Musain before sitting down for dinner with her family.

M. Thénardier stumbled into her as he ducked the plate being flung at his head and blinked down at her. “You wouldn’t happen to have a bit of drink on you?”

Eponine bit back a scowl and shrugged him off. “No dad, I don’t have any of your booze. What’d you do to make mom so pissed off?”

“I may have lost a substantial sum at a party. Never fear though.” The oily man patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. “I’ve got a large job planned. We’ll be fine.”

“Right.” The mocking laugh came from the young man in the doorway; Montparnasse cocked his head to the side as he rolled his eyes. “We’ll all be fine, so long as this haul is everything you claim it’s gonna be.” Pushing off from the doorframe, he glared. “And your track-record isn’t looking so good.”

Thénardier glared back at the younger man and puffed out his scrawny chest; looking more constipated than intimidating. “I happen to have a deal going with an old buddy. He’s working for a security company these days and can get us access to a major score, so relax.”

“Not in front of the kid!” A voice called from where the rest of her dad’s friends were milling about. Eponine rolled her eyes and turned to leave, ignoring the look that Montparnasse sent her; he was the closest thing to a human peacock that Eponine had ever met, all flashy clothes that admittedly fit him well but his attitude bothered her to the point where she couldn’t see him as anything but scum. However, as she brushed past him and he gave her a little nod, she had to admit that out of all of her dad’s friends, he was the least annoying.

She knew that her dad was a thief and a con man; he wasn’t subtle. But what could she do? He put a roof over her head and he was her dad; she could still remember when she was little and her parents had doted on her, when her dad had a decent job and her mom wasn’t perpetually drunk. It made it hard to acknowledge that she had a pretty good idea where Marius and Feuilly’s things had gone; the very thought made her feel ill. 

The young woman flopped onto her bed and pulled out her phone, waiting patiently as the ringing went on...

_.:This is the artist formally known as Grantaire, now known as the idiot who’s in over his head; because what the hell is up with watercolor paints in the first place? Argh, ah no, crap!:._ There was the sound of crashing and swearing then a moment of silence _. .:..So…‘sup?:._

She smiled. “I’m bored and dad has people over.”

_.:Sending you an address, come on over. I’m making a mess of this and could use a hand.:._

Half an hour later Eponine hopped off of the bus and stared up at the huge house in front of her. “It’s okay, you can do this. It’s not like the princess is even here. It’s fine.”

Thankfully Grantaire was set up on the lawns and she found him quickly. He grinned at her from behind a layer of paints and what looked like charcoal, and spread his arms for a hug, which she ducked with a laugh while eyeing the chaos around her. “You’ve been busy.”

Five paintings were drying in the sun, all in different mediums and showing portraits, landscapes and abstracts that were a little too edgy for her taste. 

The boy shrugged. “I got the itch this morning. So, grab a brush and help me with this last one. It’s a pain in the ass. Now, what is it that’s bothering you?”

After some shuffling and positioning, not to mention Eponine pulling on R’s paint-splattered shirt to keep her own clothes clean, she admitted that her house was feeling a little on the depressing side. 

“Dad’s friends are all pervs and jerks.” She gritted her teeth as she moved a brush over the black lines on the canvas, the man having reassured her that it could be as messy as she wanted. “It pisses me off.”

Grantaire made a sympathetic noise as he painted. “We need to get you a job and get you out of that atmosphere.”

“I can’t just leave Gav’.” She shook her head. “I’ll deal with it.”

“Mmm…” The man sounded genuinely frustrated and Eponine loved him a little for it. She was surprised at how quickly Grantaire worked; the sixth piece was done quickly and joined it’s predecessors on the lawn as she flopped down and settled back to just enjoy watching him work on yet another. It was a pretty nice view, she thought to herself; Grantaire didn’t take his shirt off often and she was always a little surprised by the muscular body hidden under his baggy clothes. She grinned; yep, overall a great view. They were soon joined by Valjean, who welcomed her warmly and sat down to watch with her as the younger man continued his messy work. She sipped the lemonade he’d brought and eyed him nervously but the man was obviously aware of her discomfort and effortlessly went about putting her at ease.

“Buying the supplies for him was a chore.” The man murmured, a small smile on his face as he nodded at where Grantaire was haphazardly drawing squares on the canvas. “He doesn’t much like when people buy him things.”

“I’ve noticed.” Eponine admitted. “Still, it’s nice that he can do this. He’s really good.” 

Valjean watched her quietly for a moment. “You’re more than welcome to come over whenever you want. We’ve got lots of room and it’s nice when Cosette and R fill this place with people.”

Eponine flushed but smiled and looked down at the grass with a happy feeling in her stomach. The man continued. “I’m very glad that Cosette’s made so many friends; we moved around so much when she was a child that she’s never had much time to socialize with people her age.” He sighed. “She deserves to be out there having fun.” 

“Well, these idiots are a good bunch.” Eponine admitted. “I mean, some of them are completely nuts and others really need to get the stick out of their-- …chill out a little. But, they’re fun and really look out for each other.” She blinked at where Grantaire was muttering darkly at the canvas. “…Is he okay?”

Valjean chuckled and moved to stand. “I’m sure he’s fine. Will you be staying for lunch?”

“I really don’t want to impose…" 

“Stay!” Grantaire grinned as he tried to wipe green paint from his forehead and instead smeared more on in the process. “We watch episodes of Project Runway and talk smack about the designs. …Don’t tell any of the guys I said that.” 

She smiled at that as Valjean made an overly dramatic sigh. “Not for long however, soon you’ll be off working and I’ll be home alone again.”

“Jean, get a damn job.” 

“I have a job.”

Grantaire snorted. “You write novels in the privacy of your own office and cut yourself off from reality. You need a job where you interact with other human beings.”

“Mean, isn’t he?” Valjean laughed. “Never change, R.”

“Very, very little chance of that. If I did, who’d piss off our fearless leader?”

* * *

Enjolras sneezed loudly. Combeferre looked up from his books and blinked. “You alright?

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Someone must be talking about you.” Courfeyrac piped up from where he was sprawled on the floor, texting his girlfriend.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “That’s not an actual thing.”

“Yes it is.” Jehan argued from where he was lying on top of Bahorel; the larger man was next to Courfeyrac on the floor, watching something on his iPod with the smaller boy curled up on top of him, his head on his shoulder, watching with him.

When Cosette and Marius showed up the girl’s phone so fast that it didn’t seem possible and she snapped several pictures of the cuddling men with coos of adoration. Jehan grinned into the broad shoulder. “If you want really embarrassing stuff, I have baby pictures." 

“Shut up, man!” Bahorel shoved him off with a grin. “Don’t you dare! Or I’ll tell them all about when you were six and yo-”

“Omigosh, you promised never to speak of it again!”

Cosette helped Jehan up as Marius went to sit with the quieter boys, cocking her head to the side. “How long have you two known each other?” 

Bahorel blinked. “Uh, his whole life; we’re cousins. Didn’t we tell you?” 

“No!” She looked from one man to the other with wide eyes. “That’s so cool!”

Both men stared at her, taken aback by her enthusiasm. “It is?”

“Of course it is! I wish I had cousins. Or siblings, you’re so lucky!” 

Marius hid a smile behind his textbook; his girlfriend’s attitude towards family members was something he’d grown used to. Having been raised by her adoptive father with no other relatives and not really remembering her mother, Cosette was more than a little fascinated with large families and the idea of growing up with siblings. To the young man, who was absolutely smitten already, this was just another thing about her that made her perfect.

“That’s how they ended up crashing together.” Courfeyrac piped up. “After ‘Rel finished with his spell in the army, he came up here to live with Jehan.”

“I was scared of living on my own.” The younger boy admitted. “Then when ‘Jol and ‘Ferre kicked Courfeyrac out…”

Bahorel grinned widely. “He started living in my room like the leech he is.” 

“Um, ow!”

Ignoring the man’s indignant protests, Combeferre put away his homework and pulled out a laptop, beginning to type away. “Very few of us have siblings, Cosette, you’re in good company.”

“Sure are. What are you writing?” 

Pulling the screen away from Marius’ prying eyes, the other boy refused to look up. “None of your business.” 

“Porn?” Courfeyrac looked at Marius conspiratorially. “Porn. He’s writing porn. Definitely writing porn.”

“You got me.” Combeferre said flatly. “I secretly write smut stories and post them online.”

“Called it.”

Slapping Courfeyrac over the head, Jehan pulled on his backpack. “Come on, we’ve got class. See you guys later.”

It wasn’t until they’d left that Enjolras looked up from his homework and blinked. “Wait, what was that about porn?”

* * *

Eponine sighed heavily as she snuck back into her home, avoiding the prying eyes of her father and his cronies, whom she could hear in the other room. She’d ended up staying with Grantaire and Valjean almost all day, only leaving that evening when Cosette and Marius had finally returned home and she’d begun to feel uncomfortable; now she tried to ignore how different her home felt than the one she’d just left. It wasn’t just Valjean’s wealth, there was a very different atmosphere than in her own home; it felt…not just safe but, it was a place that she could see wanting to go home to. It must be nice to have something like that and the gratitude she felt towards the family for taking Grantaire in just increased.

She pushed her bangs, which were getting a little long, from her face and stomped to the kitchen to grab a drink before holing up in her room but stopped when she saw some papers on the table. There was a blueprint of a house and a paper with what seemed to be a set of security codes along with a few Polaroid photos and another scrap of paper with an address on it. Their next mark… She swallowed hard and fought back the guilt that was starting to eat at her. She turned back to the fridge, pulling out a soda and firmly stamping out the guilt; this was not her problem. Except… There was something about the address and those photos. There was no way, though, that fate could actually be—

Pulling out her phone with a shaky hand, she flipped open to her texts and stared at the address her friend had sent her and then at the address sitting on the table like some venomous snake she thought might kill her at any moment. It was the same address.

It was the same.

It-

Oh sh-- 

“Eponine?”

The teenager whirled, staring wide-eyed at Montparnasse, who lounged in the doorway with a neutral look on his face. She felt a chill up her spine and her hairs stood on end as she looked at the older man; in this moment, with his posturing gone and everything else that made him so flashy, it was the closest to attractive she’d ever seen him and he terrified her. He pushed off from the wall and walked toward her slowly, reminding her of a large cat stalking prey.  
  
“You know your dad doesn’t like you looking through his things.” 

“I wasn’t.” Somehow, the mention of her father snapped her out of her momentary fear and she proceeded to lie through her teeth. “I came in for food, if he wants his crap to be top secret maybe he shouldn’t leave it out in the open. Like I’d want anything to do with dad.”

She tossed her cell phone onto the counter contemptuously and hopped up after it, glaring at him. “Besides which, you’re not the boss of me.”

He shrugged, grabbing his own drink from the fridge. “Fair enough.” Dark eyes still eerily cold, he moved to stand right in front of her and cocked his head to the side. “Just think you ought to stay out of all of it, ‘Pony. Shouldn’t get in over your head.”

She bristled at the nickname, feeling fury coil in her chest. When she was a child Montparnasse, who was really only three or four years older than her, had begun to call her that; their parents had been partners of sorts and when his mother had died, he’d begun following his dad to her place. They’d been friends, their only friends really. Then her father had recruited him after his had been sent to prison and Montparnasse had become a different person. The memory of the funny kid who used to read her stories and pretend to be her knight in shining armor hurt; and when she felt hurt, she got pissed.

“I’m fine, Monty.” A tiny flicker of pain crossed his face at the nickname before he could hide it and she continued. “I can take care of myself, I don’t need a two-bit hood looking after me.”

He jerked away and stomped off just as Thénardier stumbled in, glaring at his daughter before looking down at his papers. “And what were you doin’?”

“Nothing.” Montparnasse mumbled, pushing past him. “She’s not doing anything, come on, let’s go.”

They left and she slumped on the counter, heart beating wildly. That had been close. She rubbed at her eyes in exhaustion and tried to think of what to do; she didn’t want to get her father in trouble, he was her father after all, but she also couldn’t let them steal from Cosette and Valjean, no matter how she felt about the other girl. She’d warn them; let other people deal with it. But when she reached for her cell, it was gone. She blinked at the empty spot in confusion before the realization hit her; Montparnasse had stolen her phone. He knew something was up but didn’t want her to get involved and had covered for her and stolen her phone so she couldn’t do anything.

She wasn’t sure if she was frustrated or touched, mostly she was confused. But she didn’t have time to think about it, she had a serious choice to make.

And oh, hell, it wasn’t that hard to make it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the home stretch, thank you for riding along with me on this.


	8. Chapter Seven

_7:00am Friday_

In the calm before the bustle of students making their morning commutes, the streets were silent and nearly empty, the sound of running shoes hitting the concrete echoing softly. It was one of the best times to make the circuit around campus, when most students were still in bed and the air had a mild chill.

Waving at a fellow jogger as he slowed to a stop, Bahorel grinned and turned to watch Enjolras struggle down the trail; leaning against a tree with his muscular arms crossed, he cocked his head to the side. “Come on, fearless leader! Pick it up!”

Enjolras glared, panting as he put his hands on his knees and struggled to breathe. “Shut up.”

Both boys were dressed in gym-wear and sweatshirts against the crisp early morning air and Enjolras’ normally impossible blond curls had been pulled back into a messy bun to keep them from his sweat-dampened face. As the larger man handed over the water bottle, the blond groaned and Bahorel smiled kindly. “Less than a mile to go. Come on, this was your idea.”

“I said I wanted to learn self-defense; not kill myself.”

“Yeah.” Bahorel snorted. “If you want to learn anything, you have got to get more in shape.” 

The blond muttered under his breath but had to fight back a smile. As the taller boy continued to tease, Enjolras laughed and straightened up. Bahorel punched him lightly in the arm as he downed some of the water himself. “Come on man. Let’s finish this thing. Classes start in a couple hours.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” The smaller man groaned again. “That paper we had to do in Carter’s class nearly did me in.”

“At least yours is finished.” Bahroel muttered, sipping the water bottle as he thought about the shoddy excuse for a paper sitting in his backpack at home. “Sorry we had to cut our time down to twice a week, my work schedule got kinda wonky.”

Enjolras shrugged as they started to jog. “It’s fine." 

“You know…” Bahorel sounded strangely hesitant as he wiped his mouth on the collar of his Army sweatshirt. “If you’re really serious about learning to fight, you might wanna ask R to teach you.”

That made him trip slightly. “Grantaire?” 

Bahorel shrugged. “Yeah, he’s a great kick-boxer. We spar sometimes.”

“Huh…”

Enjolras mentally filed that away under ‘Unexpected Abilities’. He hadn’t told anyone, he was pretty sure Courfeyrac would never let him hear the end of it, but he’d started a journal of facts he learned about the prodigal cynic. It may be overthinking things or weird or even creepy but amount of regret that Enjolras had felt when Grantaire had disappeared was… Disconcerting. 

And although he’d said nothing about it to anyone, Combeferre was three steps ahead, as usual. It was like a great experiment to the pragmatic young man; whether his friend could correctly identify the guilt he was battling with and whether it would create any real shift in the group’s dynamic. Combeferre was more than a little excited about the results and watched his friend like a hawk, wondering when Enjolras was going to understand himself.

At the moment though, Enjolras just shrugged it off and took one last gulp of water as he saw their third jogging member hurrying across the street. Feuilly grinned as he caught up, shrugging his backpack higher on his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

“Are you coming straight from work?” Bahorel demanded as the other man accepted the water bottle.

Trying not to glance down at where his uniform was shoved into his pack, Feuilly blinked. “Uh, maybe.”

“You’re going to go home and sleep right?” Enjolras said firmly. “You need to get a couple hours in before you keep working.”

“I don’t work my other job today, that’s why I took the overnight shift.” The other two men nodded in relief. “That and I have an event at the foster center in two hours I wanted to go help a-”

“NO!” Bahorel and Enjolras glared, making Feuilly laugh guiltily. The blonde poked the taller man in the chest. “You need to sleep.”

Feuilly nodded, sheepishly, and they began their run again, much to Enjolras’ horror as the young man struggled to keep up. He barely held in a relived groan when Bahorel’s cell phone went off and the older man stopped to answer it. The relief turned to concern when the brunet’s face darkened and he began to talk a little louder.

“Jehan, Jehan, slow down. Deep breaths. Now what happened?” Bahorel’s eyes widened and he paled slightly. “Are you kidding me? Okay, we’ll be right there.” 

He turned to the other two boys as he snapped his phone shut, an unusually grim look on his face. “We need to get to Cosette’s place. Now.”

* * *

_7:05am Friday_

Musichetta looked down at her boyfriend with a small smile, lounging against the headboard of their large bed and running a hand through his messy hair fondly. The feel of the silky locks as she gently untangled them was soothing as she allowed her brain to wake up properly. She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, moving to stroke his cheek. “Honey, time to get up.”

Joly mumbled under his breath and rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow and the older woman just laughed and stood, grabbing a silk robe and walking towards the bathroom in order to wash her face.

In the kitchen she barely managed to stop Bossuet from burning down the house and confiscated the frying pan as she shooed him off to start breakfast herself. Soon she had both her boys at the kitchen table and eyed them as they both scarfed down eggs and toast. “You’re welcome.”

“It’s wonderful.” Bossuet mumbled through a full mouth. “You’re wonderful; best cook ever.” 

“Everyone is a better cook than us.” Joly laughed as he levered himself up from the table and grabbed a cane. “We’re just lucky she’s gifted in every way.”

The young woman frowned and hurried over to press a kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek. “Bad day?”

“Not the worst but yeah.” Joly’s legs acted up sporadically, agitated by Rickets that made him knock-knee’d and stiff. He only used the cane when he absolutely needed to but some days he couldn’t even get out of bed. It had been such a long spell without any pain that his girlfriend felt bitter as she watched him limp toward the cabinet and grab his morning supplements. He didn’t deserve it, his pain made her furious.

“Want a piggy-back ride?” Bossuet asked cheerfully.

“After last time? Hell no. Just help me get to the bus stop in one piece and I’ll be fine.”

Musichetta smiled as they began teasing each other and sighed. Her boys had each other’s backs; time to get to work. Just then Joly’s phone went off and the young man answered it with a smile that quickly morphed into a wide-eyed look of confusion. He gasped and put a hand over his mouth, paling, before turning to Musichetta with a desperate look. “Can you please take us to Cosette’s?"

* * *

_6:30am Friday_  

Jehan giggled as he watched Bahorel being chased out of their apartment by their third roommate; Courfeyrac was grumbling under his breath, having been wakened by Bahorel’s loud and annoying alarm clock much, much earlier than he’d wanted to. The incorrigible young man sighed heavily and flopped down next to his younger friend on the couch. “Well, since we’re up, want to watch something and eat all Bahorel’s pop-tarts?”

Jehan laughed. “I think the disc for that anime is still in the player.”

“Sweet.” Courfeyrac skipped into the kitchen. “Milk? Coffee? Tea?”

“I’m good.”

The teenager put away his daily devotional and turned on the TV, cuddling into his blanket. He had class, then he was going out for lunch with Joly and Bossuet and then he and Grantaire were going to go shopping at the local arts store. He smiled to himself and enjoyed the feeling of contentment.

“Marius, calm down.” Courfeyrac was standing in the doorway of their dinning room, looking unnaturally serious; his eyes were sharp and his voice calm and steady. “Calm down. I’m coming over right now. Just, just calm down, you need to be strong for your girlfriend. I’ll be right there, calm down.”

Jehan stood slowly, eyes wide. Courfeyrac turned to him, giving him a searching look. “I think you need to come too. Once we’re there, call the others.”

* * *

_11:30pm Thursday_

Cosette blinked blearily and wondered for a moment what had wakened her. She didn’t have class tomorrow so she’d stayed up a little later than usual but had fallen asleep quickly once she had allowed her head to hit the pillow, exhausted from a long week at school. She sat up from her bed and rubbed at her eyes before getting up and pulling on her slippers against the cold floor. Thinking perhaps that she was thirsty she exited her bedroom, sneaking quietly past Grantaire’s room so as not to wake the young man, she hurried down the stairs.

The sound of the sink filling her glass echoed prettily in the large empty kitchen as the teenager stared out the large window at their gardens. The dark night sky made the trees cast strange shadows on the lawns and a slight breeze made them dance strangely, giving the yard an eerie look. She sipped her drink slowly, enjoying the stillness and reassured despite her father’s absence by the presence of her friend upstairs. Grantaire was a blessing; her father’s short business trips had used to be something she dreaded, alone in their large home. But Grantaire was a constant presence during those times and made sure she felt comfortable. She smiled.

Then she heard it, a strange thud from the darkness and an unnatural movement in the yard. This was what had awoken her, she realized. She turned and ran for the stairs, terrified.

Outside in the garden, Montparnasse huddled further into his coat and cringed as Claquesous tripped over a root, loudly falling to the earth. “Idiot.”

Thénardier cuffed the young man, glaring at the men surrounding him. “We managed around the security, the old man is gone, this’ll be an easy job in you keep your wits about you. Don’t muck it up.”

“Dad.”

They all turned in surprise at the voice, Thénardier squinting into the darkness. “Who’s that?”

Rolling his eyes and ignoring the snorts from some of the other men, Montparnasse hissed. “Who the hell do you think it is? ‘Pony, what are you doing here?” 

Eponine was trembling, breathing hard and shivering in the chill, having forgotten her coat. She swallowed hard but glared steadily at her father. “Don’t do this. Just call it off, there’s nothing here worth the trouble.”

“The old man is loaded, of course it’s worth it.”

“Please, dad,” Eponine begged. “Not here.”

Montparnasse stared at her as Gueulemer squinted over at the young woman. “Why not?”

“…They’re my friends.” Eponine thought she might cry, but held her ground. “Please, daddy. They’re good people, I don’t want them-I need to-please don’t.” 

There was a moment of silence, and then the men began to laugh, except for Montparnasse, who was looking at her sadly. Thénardier howled, having to be silenced by one of his companions. “You expect me to believe that some rich snobs like these are your friends? As if they’d want anything to do without someone like us.”

Her eyes widened, and she swallowed hard, suddenly feeling cold. The men turned from her, heading toward the house, and she snarled. “If you don’t stop… I’ll stop you.” 

“You’d regret it.”

Her father said it but his tone was skeptical and the smiles on some of the other men’s smiles showed that they were skeptical as well.

She screamed.

A dog in a house next door began barking and howling as a few lights came on in various homes. She took a shuddering breath and screamed again only to be cut off as her father struck her across the face. She scrambled backwards in fear as he lurched forward with a murderous look on his face; Montparnasse tried to interfere only to be shoved against a tree, hitting his forehead and stumbling to the ground. Thénardier raised his hand to strike her again, cursing loudly as lights lit the yard.

Had there been a shoe on it, the man’s face would have crumpled under the force of the kick; as it was, the bare sole slammed against his nose, dislocating it, as he fell backwards under the onslaught. Grantaire fell back into a ready stance, glaring at the men as he moved in front of Eponine. “Go into the house. ‘Ponine, go inside with Cosette, right now.” 

The girl looked up to see the blonde standing in the doorway, phone to her ear and staring in horror out at them. She scrambled to her feet as Cosette held out a hand, silently urging her to join her, and ran over to be pulled into a tight embrace. As the girls comforted each other, Grantaire turned back to the men, glaring at them challengingly. He stood there; breathing lightly, dressed in a pair of pajama bottoms and with a look of cold menace in his eyes and every other man lost his nerve.

They began to run even as sirens were heard and the flashing lights of police cars roared into view. Most of the gang ran straight into the cops’ hands, only a few managing to sprint off; Thénardier and Montparnasse were grabbed immediately from where they both lay. The con-man shrieked and raved as he was dragged off but the younger man went with a look that seemed almost docile, he looked up and over at Eponine, who stared at his bloody cheek and distraught eyes and had to look away.

Cosette was staring at the scene with wide eyes, having put the phone down and the other girl took a deep breath. “I called them. Before I left home, tipped them off.” She looked over at Cosette pleadingly. “I couldn’t-I didn’t want him to. I’m so sorry.”

“No. Nononono.” Cosette drew her close and rocked her back and forth. “No, I’m so sorry. None of this is your fault. I can’t believe he would do that to you. I’m so sorry.” 

Eponine felt her eyes tear up and began to cry into her shoulder; the blonde shushed her soothingly, running fingers through her hair and rubbing her back soothingly. She sobbed as the girl she’d seen only as a rival, and whose home had almost been burgled by her father, held her.

“Ponine.” She pulled away as Grantaire looked down at them, concern obvious in his warm green eyes. He gently touched her cheek, where her skin had bruised and cut, bleeding slightly. “Are you alright?” He sounded so worried and was so gentle; she whimpered and buried her face in his chest as his strong arms came around her. “You were so brave. So brave…”

* * *

_7:20am Friday_

Marius had an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders as Cosette sat with her head on Grantaire’s shoulder; Eponine was on his other side, wrapped around him and looking much, much calmer. The police had finally left, having taken statements from each young person and patching Eponine’s face up. Courfeyrac walked into the living room from the kitchen and sat across from them on an armchair.

“Jehan’s making some tea and eggs and bacon. Is there anything else you guys want to eat?”

Both girls shook their head as the doorbell rang; Marius stood and quietly went to let more of their friends in.

“Eponine? Are you alright with this?” She twisted up to look at Grantaire, who was looking down at her kindly. “With everyone coming over. Would you rather be alone?”

She gazed up at him, and then looked over at where Marius was herding Enjolras, Bahorel and Feuilly into the room; all the boys were talking over each other, babbling on and waving their hands energetically. She smiled as they ambushed Cosette as she moved to join her boyfriend, asking questions and looked horrified. “No. No, this is nice. I’ve never had this many people worried about me. It’s nice.”

They converged on her and she smiled weakly, accepting hugs and answering worried questions. Grantaire pulled away slightly, grinning at the sight.

“She’s alright then?” He glanced over his shoulder to see Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta coming in, the girl pushing past everyone to put a motherly arm around the younger girl. Both of the men threw their arms around the other boy as Grantaire pulled them close, enjoying the comforting gesture after having supported the two girls all night.

“Yeah, they’re both fine. I’m just glad I was here.”

“Omigosh, Gav!” Eponine gasped, trying to stand. “I didn’t even think! I have to-”

Courfeyrac pushed her back down and soothed her gently. “It’s taken care of. It’s alright.”

“But-”

“It’s fine.” Courfeyrac soothed. “I’ve got it all under control. Just relax, ‘Ponine.”

“You heard the man.” Grantaire sat down next to her and hugged her close. “Come on, breathe deep. Your part is done for now, let other people handle it.”

Jehan chose that moment to hurry in with food for the girls, swatting away wandering hands and telling the boys to get their own. As the group settled in for an impromptu breakfast meeting, Combeferre finally arrived with a frantic Gavroche; who leapt immediately at his older sister and began babbling questions and trying to touch the wound on her face. She ignored his questions, just hugging him close and shooting Combeferre a thankful look. The man looked around the rest of the group. “Alright, who needs to let professors know they can’t come in today and who needs to call out sick from work?”

Galvanized by the always-responsible mother hen, they began pulling out cells and making the necessary plans; Musichetta excused herself with a sigh, needing to open the café but informing her boyfriend that she expected updates throughout the day. Grantaire looked to Cosette, “Is this okay? I’d prefer if there were some of us at least until Jean gets home.”

The blonde nodded quickly. “Everyone can hang out here. I’d like that, thank you.”

* * *

Frasier smiled cheerfully as he leaned over the table to meet his silent companion’s eyes. “You know there’s not a lot you can say to get out of this, right?”

Montparnasse slouched down further and bit his lip resolutely. The young man was bruised and looked young in his t-shirt and jeans, jacket stripped away; Frasier felt a certain level of pity for the criminal and sighed. “Look, kid, I really want to help.” 

“Right. ‘Cause you’re the ‘good copper’, right? And grumpy-ass is ‘bad copper’?”

“If you’d like I can send him back in.” The man offered cheerfully; he’d kicked Javert from the interrogation room earlier when he’d begun to get a bit too…intense for Frasier’s liking. “Do yourself a favor, mate. Cooperate with me here.”

Montparnasse stared down at the ground silently, face blank but the older man could see some sort of shift taking place. He swallowed. “I-How long?”

Frasier leaned forward again. “If you cooperate, I think I can help you get it shortened considerably.”

“No. I mean, how long will the others be away for?”

The police officer blinked in surprise. “I’m not sure, if we can get enough evidence linking them to enough crimes they’ll be away for quite a few years.”

“Then I’ll help.”

Frasier felt relieved but a small nagging voice in the back of his mind questioned the change of heart. He eyed the younger man carefully as Montparnasse began picking at a scab on his arm. “May I ask why it matters?”

“Time he’s away means time he’s not near his kids, right?”

He had a hazy memory of the ring-leader’s daughter with blood on her face and terror in her eyes and it clicked. He smiled kindly. “I’ll get someone in here with paper so you can give your statement; and some water. Is there anything else you’d like?" 

“No. …Thank you.”

Javert was waiting in the hallway, frowning his usual frown. “Do you really think he’s going to help?”

“I do.” The younger man said firmly. 

“Why would he just suddenly be honest, he wasn’t so concerned about saving his own skin earlier.”

Frasier smiled. “I don’t think it’s his own he’s concerned about.” When his partner gave him a blank look he rolled his eyes and began to walk away. “Never mind.”

* * *

“I can’t believe he’d do something like this.”

Grantaire was startled from where he was gathering soft drinks from the fridge, as the others were grilled for information in the living room. Valjean had arrived home about five minutes before, having hurried from his business meeting when he heard from the police, and Cosette had attached herself to her father’s side with no indication that she was going to move any time soon. Between that and Eponine’s attention being monopolized by her little brother, Grantaire had used the distractions to take a quick break from his role as protector and get some quiet in the kitchen; unfortunately it seemed he hadn’t been the only one.

Enjolras was sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly ahead and frowning. “Her own dad. I just, I knew her family wasn’t…nice, but to do this… I never thought about actually knowing people like this. Y’know?” He looked more rattled than Grantaire had thought he was, but it made sense in a way; he was a very empathetic, if not slightly awkward person. “These people we’re supposed to go up against aren’t supposed to be people we know. I’ve always seen them as these faceless-what I mean is… I mean-” Enjolras groaned and put his head on the table. “Omigosh, I don’t know what to say for once.”

The older man considered making a run for it to avoid the situation getting any weirder but ended up sitting across from the troubled blond and sighing heavily. “Now you understand a little of the world I live in, I guess.”

Enjolras started and stared at him as Grantaire ran a hand through his curly hair and tried to explain. “For every person like you, or Jean, I see at least ten men like Thénardier. For me, they’re the rule, not the exception like you so obviously see them. You think that people are inherently good and just need to be given the opportunity to show it but I think that people are evil.” He twisted off the lid of a soda with a little more force than was necessary and forced himself to continue. “I think that we need to fight to be good. And some of us do, you being a perfect example. I mean, you’ve had all the breaks in life, you could live a perfectly comfortable life and never lift a finger.”

Enjolras bristled. “I didn’t ask to be born who I was, I refuse to allow my parents to dictate my life. If I do get somewhere in life, it will be on my own terms and by my own effort.”

“See?! Exactly!” Grantaire threw his arms wide. “You’ve made a choice to do what you feel is moral and are determined to use your own luck to help others. That is amazing.” Seeing the look he was receiving he quickly tacked on. “And I mean that completely seriously. So few people are like that.”

“…Isn’t… isn’t it hard? Thinking so negatively all the time?”

Grantaire looked at him steadily. “Very, very much so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left! Thanks for sticking around, we're almost done.


	9. Chapter Eight

Enjolras hesitated then slowly looked away. “…So why?”

“I don’t have much choice.”

Grantaire sighed and stood, walking over to a small cabinet. He opened it to reveal a small medicine shelf and grabbed a bottle. He threw it at the blond, who read the label and then raised an eyebrow. “Yours?”

“Mmm.” Grantaire flopped back into his seat. “Never really considered the option, even though my parents have wanted to get me on medication for ages. But Jean said he honestly thought it would help in a way that beer never could. So yeah, talked to a doctor and got on antidepressants and damned if it doesn’t help.”

“So you’re depressed?”

The older man’s lip twisted. “Among other things. Don’t get me wrong; I am a naturally pessimistic person. But yeah, some of it gets better if I treat it.”

“I had no idea.” Enjolras said quietly. “Well, no, I think that ‘Ferre kind of suspected.”

The other man laughed. “I’m not surprised, he’s always had a knack for seeing things other people miss.”

“…He was really upset when you left. He’s never yelled at me like that before or since.”

Grantaire sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I feel a little bad about that. He was trying to help and I just bolted. I should have been focusing on how it was affecting the others, not just how much you hated me.”

Enjolras jerked back as though he’d been physically slapped; his blue eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed like a fish. For once, Grantaire seemed to have completely silenced his ‘nemesis’. He couldn’t help but smile wryly as Enjolras snapped back to normal.

“I don’t hate you!” Enjolras protested loudly. At the brunette’s meaningful look he lowered his voice but continued on. “I’ve never hated you. You irritate me but I never…” He voice went incredibly quiet and he looked hurt. “You thought I hated you?”

Grantaire was a little surprised by his friend’s response; he couldn’t imagine that Enjolras could possibly not have considered how his words and attitude could have been perceived after all this time…

But no, he was serious. Grantaire hid a wide grin behind his hand and fought off a laugh; it didn’t work and Enjolras’ pale skin flushed brightly and he looked away, getting embarrassed. “I just… figured you didn’t care enough about what I think to even consider something like that.”

“Enjolras, you may be naive, annoying, irritatingly peppy at times, overly optimistic, to hot for your own good in a way that’s infuriating because you don’t care, judgmental, frustrating, quick to yell, prone to being overly dramatic, bizarrely-”

“ **R**.” Enjolras’ embarrassment had turned into anger but he was trying hold it in and merely glared at the older man. “I get it. Move on.”

“Despite all of that.” Grantaire looked away. “I dunno; I admire you. I could never have the faith in humanity that you have, or the dedication to do something to help people I don’t know. What I did tonight was easy because I adore the girls and wanted to keep them safe but the idea of risking my neck for complete strangers is bizarre to me. You’re a very kind and unselfish person and I admire you for it.”

Enjolras was pretty sure that the red glow would never leave his face at this point. Staring fixatedly at the tabletop to avoid making eye contact, the younger man thought over what he’d just heard and felt both a feeling of self-disgust and happiness. “I kind of figured you hated me too.”

“I know, my bad. I get on people’s nerves because it amuses me and sometimes I don’t consider how it makes people perceive me; it’s a stupid habit.”

“When you were a kid, teachers accused you of thinking all attention was good attention didn’t they?”

Laughing at the wry tone of voice his friend had taken, Grantaire offered up one of the sodas. “Pretty much. I am sorry for the way I’ve treated you over the years. Just because I disagree with your beliefs never gave me the right to act so disrespectfully.”

“I was horrible to you too. I deserved it.”

“Oh no.” Grantaire’s voice dropped to a serious tone that made Enjolras look up despite himself. “Let’s make something completely clear, you retaliating does not mean in any way that I should have ever spoken to you like that. Got it?”

“But the way that I responded only spurred you on and-”

“Enjolras shut up. If anyone is to blame, it’s me. Let’s leave it at that.”

“…Are we arguing about whose fault it is that we argue?”

The older man grinned widely. “Are you surprised?”

Enjolras wasn’t and it didn’t really bother him either, it felt natural. There were days that Grantaire’s words had hurt him deeply, or his anger towards the man had made his chest burn but other times it was fun. This was probably the longest they’d ever spoken to each other in one go, and certainly the first time they’d spoken to each other alone.

“Oi, R! Where’re the drinks, man?”

The younger man jumped at the yell but Grantaire just laughed and yelled back at Bahorel, standing and gathering the bottles. Enjolras helped him and both boys rejoined the group, the blond feeling somehow that something was different between them now, but unsure how to ask about it.

He’d figure it out later.

 ~*~

Eponine sat on the kitchen counter and watched her mom dumping a box of cds, dvds and, for some reason, cassette tapes into a garbage bag. “…You’re taking the fact that I got Dad arrested strangely well.”

“That man was taking too many damned risks these days.” Madame Thénardier muttered darkly as she threw in a stack of magazines. “At least this way we seem like victims, not accomplices.”

The idea that she didn’t know exactly what her husband was doing and participated willingly was laughable but Eponine wisely kept quiet, better not to alienate both of her parents.

“…I got a job.” She steeled herself for whatever reaction her mother would give. “It’s just part time but since dad can’t help with money anymore, a friend offered to let me work for her. And another one of my friends thinks that he can babysit Gav’ when I can’t.”

The older woman straightened, eyeing her daughter thoughtfully. She smiled. “Good thinking, Eponine.”

It was like the smiles she’d received when she was young and everything was right with the world. It made her feel like maybe things were looking up. She slipped into Gavroche’s room, moving to sit next to him on his bed. “Hey, you hungry?”

The boy looked at her quietly, and then flung himself into her arms. She caught him and rubbed his back, blinking in concern. “Woah, hey, you alright?”

“I’m sorry.” The boy’s voice was muffled against her shirt. “I’m sorry he hit you and I’m sorry that I couldn’t help you.”

Her eyes widened and she pulled him back to look at him. “Gav, no. You’re my baby brother; it’s my job to take care of you. Not the other way around.”

The kid frowned and shook his head. “No, we look out for each other.”

Eponine smiled slowly and nodded. “You’re right Gav, we’ll take care of each other.”

 ~*~

Frasier slumped against the wall of the kitchen and let out a long breath. He’d thought that they’d just come and speak to the owner of the house to let him know what was going on and what would be expected of his daughter; it was the decent thing to do, after all. He had a feeling he’d missed something though. The young man from the night before had copied his hasty exit and rummaged in the fridge for drinks, looking unnerved. “…Do you know what the hell is going on in there?”

Frasier laughed weakly. “No, but that look is a bad sign, if I know my partner as well as I think I do. They’ve obviously met before.”

“No kidding. So, hey, did that guy from your old gang stop calling you finally?”

The police officer started and stared at the young man; he’d been trying to keep his problem with his old drinking buddy quiet, it would only bring up questions about why he was avoiding the man in the first place so the only place he’d talked about it had been at his AA meeting…

“Oh.” Frasier grinned. “OH. Hey, I knew you looked familiar.”

“Wasn’t sure it was you at first, you haven’t been in a couple weeks. People were getting worried ‘bout you.”

“Yeah, my sponsor’s been on my case about it.” The older man sighed. “But work’s kept us so busy lately…”

“I hear ya.” He held out a hand. “Grantaire.”

“Ramin.” Frasier grinned, shaking. “Where’d you learn to fight?”

Back in the living room, Valjean and Javert sat staring at one another. Valjean had offered refreshments several times but Javert turned them down each time in a clipped tone. Finally the older man sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. “How long’s it been? Ten years?”

“…About.” Javert mumbled, clearing his throat. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

“I’ve been lucky. Most authors take a much longer time to become published and be able to live this well.”

“Quite a step up from the penniless man who broke parole.”

Valjean winced and sighed heavily at the comment; he stood and began to walk around the room. “I straightened things out. Did my time.”

“You got off lightly.” Javert stood as well, glowering. “It was not a correct delivery of justice.”

“I stole to feed my family, I paid for it with five years of my life. I attacked a guard, and paid for it with another fourteen years. All of this I deserved, I was not a good man.” Valjean stared at him. “But I have changed; I admitted to the parole evasion and accepted my sentence with no ill will. I no longer owe the law anything.”

“Once a criminal, always a criminal. I cannot believe they’ve allowed you to take in that girl-”

Valjean’s face turned stony. “You don’t know anything about how I came to have her, I will not hear you speak of her. I have been a good father and kept her safe. You’ve no right to say otherwise.”

Javert grabbed his coat. “Your daughter will be asked to act as a witness at the trial. We’ll send you the details when they become prudent. Make sure I have no further need to see you again, Valjean. RAMIN!”

The younger man stumbled out of the kitchen, somewhat guiltily. “Ready to go?”

His partner stomped out without a word and Frasier smiled nervously at the other man. “Thank you for your time, sir. We’ll be in contact.”

Once both lawmen were gone, Grantaire emerged and turned a curious eye on Valjean, who slumped into a chair. “Do I want to know?”

“He used to work at the prison I served time in.” The older man admitted, looking older than his years. “He still sees me as that wretch of a man; if he had his way, I might still be in jail.”

“Prick.” The boy muttered, making Valjean smile.

“Don’t dwell on it, son. Come on, let’s get ready for dinner; Cosette will be home soon.”

“Jean.”

The man turned to find Grantaire looking at him with an unusually serious face. The younger man took a deep breath and stepped forward. “I know that you regret a lot of things about your past, but selfishly I’m glad because they lead to where we are now. Meeting you has changed my life; and Cosette’s, you’ve helped her so much. You’re an incredible man who has made such a difference for me and I thank God that I’ve met you. Anyone who really knows you can see that you’ve changed and that-”

He stuttered to a stop as he was pulled to a broad chest and felt Valjean press a kiss to the top of his head. He choked back a sob and returned the hug as the man sighed. “R, you are an amazing young man and I am blessed to know you, son. Now come help me get food and let’s try not to be sniveling when Cosette gets home or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

 ~*~

Enjolras looked up in surprise as Cosette deposited a large stack of posters on his desk. “Five hundred posters advertising the food drive next week. Grantaire sends his regards.”

Staring down at the neatly put together pages, Enjolras floundered. “But he’s not-”

“He just put together the background and formatting for me. He’s not committing in any way and said a lot of things about the group I probably shouldn’t repeat but said he wanted to help out a little, as a peace offer or something. It’s a ‘one time deal’ so enjoy the miracle while it’s here.”

Enjolras absorbed this, then twisted around in his chair to look at where the young man was loitering at the bar, broom in hand and laughing at something Joly was saying. When Jehan began pulling them away for the meeting, Grantaire just waved them on their way, good-naturedly, and got back to work.

It was a somewhat precarious arrangement, but it was more than enough for both men. Life could go on as normally as it ever seemed to.

 

* * *

 

 

 

_“What about me?’ said Grantaire. ‘I’m here.’_   
_‘You?’_   
_‘Yes, me.’_   
_‘You? Rally Republicans! You? In defence of principles, fire up hearts that have grown cold!’_   
_‘Why not?’_   
_‘Are you capable of being good for something?’_   
_‘I have the vague ambition to be,’ said Grantaire._

_…_

_Enjolras thought for a few moments, and with the gesture of a man who had come to a decision, ‘Grantaire,’ he said gravely, ‘I agree to try you out. You’ll go to the Maine toll-gate.’_  
  
― Victor Hugo,  _Les Miserables_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finished it. It's taken far too long, but volume one is completed. Thank you to everyone who has been reading this and please feel free to suggest or comment; I live and breathe for reviews. The next volume in the series, 'Better Than an Opera' will be posted soon, please keep an eye out for it. God bless for your support,
> 
> -EveryDayArtist

**Author's Note:**

> Well this is the first in a series of modern stories. There was discussion going on around Tumblr that people needed to stop defining Grantaire by his drinking and obsession with Enjolras; people pointing out that Brick!R is a very complicated, talented person who should be shown as such. Which made me wonder what it'd be like if you wrote him and eliminated the stereotyped attributes. So I did and wouldn't you know it, everyone is so much fun to write that it's turned into a series. I hope that everyone is in character and that you all enjoy the ride.


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